Room For One More
by TitansRule
Summary: Old habits die hard, and Jess couldn't help noticing the salt lines before they disappeared. On the night Dean comes to ask for his brother's help, she finally decides to speak up, but how will Jessica Moore handle the world of the Supernatural?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Heavily influenced by the pilot episode.**

* * *

It was the thud that woke Jessica. She jolted awake, blinking into the near darkness, and realised instantly that she was alone.

Sam must have made the noise, but, straining her ears, Jess could hear an unfamiliar voice. Had they had a break-in?

Steeling herself, she slipped out of bed and hurried towards the kitchen, not bothering to put on a dressing gown or slippers.

"We gotta talk." The unfamiliar voice said firmly.

"Uh, the phone?" Sam asked sarcastically.

Jess breathed a sigh of relief. Whoever it was, Sam obviously knew – although that didn't explain what he was doing in their apartment at three in the morning.

"If I'd called, would you have picked up?" The other man asked.

Reaching into the kitchen, Jess flicked on the light, and both men looked over, Sam looking faintly embarrassed.

"Sam?"

"Jess, hey." Sam cleared his throat. "Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica."

Jess's eyebrows rose towards her hairline. "Wait, your brother, Dean?"

At his nod, Jess's gaze slid towards Dean to survey him. Sam never spoke about his family, just that his mother had died when he was a baby, and that he didn't get along with his father or brother.

She did know that Dean was the older brother, by four years, but that was all. He was shorter than Sam, and his hair was shorter too, his green eyes travelling over her and lingering on her shirt.

"I love the Smurfs." He commented, grinning at her. "Y'know, I gotta tell you, you are completely out of my brother's league."

Jess glanced down, just realising that she was dressed in very short shorts, and a very low-cut top. "Just let me put something on."

"No, no, no." Dean said, still grinning. "I wouldn't dream of it. Seriously. Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business. But, uh, nice meeting you."

It didn't feel like he was flirting with her, however much his behaviour suggested the opposite, and Jess glanced at Sam, taking in the stony expression on his face. He was doing it to mess with his brother, maybe not maliciously, but she didn't appreciate it.

Neither did Sam, clearly. "No." He said, almost coldly. "No, whatever you say to me, you can say in front of her."

Jess smiled slightly as Sam put an arm around her shoulders.

"Okay." Dean shrugged. "Dad hasn't been home in a few days."

"So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift." Sam said, his tone still frosty. "He'll stumble back in sooner or later."

Dean sighed. "Dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days."

Jess felt Sam stiffen beside her and glanced up to see that his expression had frozen.

"Jess, excuse us." He said softly. "We have to go outside."

Jess frowned slightly as she went back to their room. So what if their father was hunting? If he was on his own, he was after deer, probably, and no one got killed going after deer. Unless …

No. No, that was crazy.

But still …

Jess pulled on some sweatpants and a hoodie, grabbed some for Sam as well, and ran back to the kitchen.

"Is this about the salt lines?"

Both brothers froze on their way out of the door and turned back to look at her.

"The what now?" Dean asked.

"There are lines of salt around the apartment." Jess elaborated. "I noticed them about three months ago. I didn't put them there, but it seemed a bit quirky to me, so I looked it up. It's a deterrent for demons and evil spirits. Now, I know Sam – he's not the kind to believe in this stuff unless he had proof, so I never said anything … Does this have something to do with it?"

A smile crossed Dean's face, half-wistful, half-proud. "Not bad, Jessica. Not bad at all."

Jess handed Sam the clothes. "So I'm right. Your father's not hunting game, is he?"

"No." Sam answered, pulling the sweats on. "Alright, you can say it in front of her."

"Well, whether she hears is irrelevant." Dean said with a shrug, heading out the door. "She can't come with us."

"Us?" Sam repeated, following him. "Come on, you can't just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you."

"You're not hearing me, Sammy." Dean said tensely. "Dad's missing. I need you to help me find him."

"You remember the poltergeist in Amherst?" Sam asked. "Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then too. He's always missing and he's always fine!"

Poltergeist? Devil's Gates?

Jess's head was swimming. It was one thing to suspect that these things existed, but something completely different to actually get confirmation. She slipped her hand into Sam's as they hurried along in Dean's wake, trying to calm her boyfriend down.

Dean stopped suddenly and swung round to face them. "Not for this long. Now are you gonna come with me or not?"

"I'm not." Sam answered bluntly.

"Why not?" Dean asked.

"I swore I was done hunting." Sam said. "For good."

"Then why the salt?" Jess asked.

"Just because I'm done hunting doesn't mean I don't know what's out there." Sam murmured, squeezing her hand. "It was force of habit for a while, I've managed to … wean myself off it so to speak."

That explained why she hadn't found salt in a while.

"Come on." Dean sighed. "It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad."

"Yeah?" Sam asked, as Dean started downstairs again. "When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45."

"Well, what was he supposed to do?" Dean asked, reaching the door out of the building.

"I was nine years old!" Sam protested. "He was supposed to say, don't be afraid of the dark!"

"Don't be afraid of the dark?!" Dean repeated. "Are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark; you know what's out there!"

Jess felt a shiver of fear run through her, and Sam glanced at her.

"Yeah, I know." He whispered. "But still … the way we grew up after Mom was killed … and Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her …"

_Killed her? I thought Sam said his mom died in a fire._

"… but we still haven't found the damn thing. So we kill everything we _can_ find."

"We save a lot of people doing it too." Dean stated proudly.

"You think Mom would have wanted this for us?" Sam asked softly.

Dean rolled his eyes and let himself out into the parking lot.

Sam gritted his teeth and followed, pulling Jess with him. "The weapons training, melting the silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors!"

"So what are you gonna do?" Dean asked. "You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life, is that it?"

"No, not normal." Sam refuted. "Safe."

Dean snorted, almost under his breath. "And that's why you ran away."

"I was just going to college." Sam said coldly. "It was Dad who said if I was gonna go, I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing."

"Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now." Dean told him. "If he's not dead already. I can feel it. I can't do this alone."

"Yes, you can." Sam disagreed.

Dean's gaze dropped to the ground. "Yeah, well, I don't want to."

Jess's initial dislike of the man, caused more by her protectiveness of her boyfriend than anything else, melted a little. It was clear to her that their separation had hurt Dean as much as it had Sam. Deciding to give Dean the benefit of the doubt, she cast around for some way of lightening to mood or changing the subject, when her gaze fell upon the car Dean was leaning against. "Oh my God … Is that a 67 Chevy Impala?!"

Dean looked vaguely surprised. "Uh, yeah, why?"

"I never thought I'd actually get to see one." Jess said, running an appreciative hand over the trunk. "My Gramps loved classic cars." She explained, seeing his mystified expression. "We used to sit and look at pictures. This was always my favourite. So what was your dad hunting?"

"Jess!" Sam protested. "I'm not going!"

Jess gave him a smile. "I know. I'm curious."

Sam sighed. "Yeah, me too."

Dean grinned and popped the trunk, opening the spare tyre compartment to reveal an arsenal of weapons and paperwork.

"Jesus." Jess muttered. "Can you two use all of these?"

"Yep." Dean answered absently, rifling through the papers. "Let's see, where'd I put that thing?"

"So when Dad left, why didn't you go with him?"

"I was working my own gig. This hoodoo thing down in New Orleans."

"Hoodoo?" Jess repeated. "Is that anything like voodoo?"

"Pretty much exactly the same." Sam responded. "Voodoo is the more common term, but that only refers to a particular type of … Never mind. It's folk magic." He looked at Dean. "Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm twenty-six, dude." He finally pulled a wad of newspaper clippings out of a folder. "Alright, here we go. So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy – they found his car, but he'd vanished. Completely MIA."

Sam took the offered cutting and Jess tucked herself under his arm to read it in the dim glow of the car's interior light.

_Jericho Herald_

_19__th__ Sept 2005_

_Centennial Highway Disappearance – Andrew Carey MISSING_

"So maybe he was kidnapped." Sam suggested.

"Yeah." Dean agreed, tossing another newspaper clipping into the trunk. "Well, here's another one in April. Another one in December '04, '03, '98, '92, ten of them over the last twenty years. All men. All the same five-mile stretch of road."

"Okay, that sounds fishy to me." Jess admitted.

Dean nodded. "Started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was around three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which was bad enough." He pulled a hand-held tape recorder out of the arsenal. "Then I get this voicemail yesterday."

He pressed play and the other two leaned in to listen. The quality was terrible, and full of static, but Jess could just make out a man's voice.

_"Dean … something big is starting to happen … I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may … Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger."_

"You know there's EVP on that." Sam said, not really posing it as a question.

Dean grinned at him. "Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?"

"Wait, what's EVP?" Jess asked.

"Electronic Voice Phenomenon." Sam explained. "Something's interfering with the EMF – uh, electromagnetic field around the cell phone."

"And that something is …?" Jess prompted.

"Probably a spirit." Dean answered. "It's why you often find flickering lights or non-working radios around spirits. They interfere. I slowed the message down, ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got."

He pressed play again, and a soft female voice floated out. _"I can never go home …"_

"Never go home?" Sam repeated.

Dean dropped the recorder back into the compartment, closed it and the trunk, and leaned against the car again. "You know, in almost two years, I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing."

Sam sighed. "Alright. I'll go, I'll help you find him. But I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here."

"What's first thing Monday?" Dean asked.

"He's got a law school interview." Jess said proudly, beaming at her boyfriend. "He got a 174 on his LSAT."

"I'm gonna pretend I understood that." Dean said shrugging. "Law school, huh?"

Sam said nothing, wrapping an arm around Jess's shoulder and guiding her back inside. Neither of them said anything until they reached their bedroom, and Sam released her to grab an overnight bag.

"So it's a ghost that's kidnapping those people?" Jess asked shakily.

"Possibly." Sam answered, retrieving a rather nasty looking knife from his underwear drawer.

"How many weapons do you have hidden around?" Jess asked.

"Not many." Sam assured her. "Just enough that I can protect us both if I need to."

Jess nodded. "How does a ghost kidnap someone?"

"Never underestimate a spirit." Sam cautioned. "Especially an angry one."

"You said that something killed your mother?" Jess said gently. "What happened?"

"I don't know exactly." Sam admitted, stuffing some clothes into the bag. "I was only six months old. Dad heard Mom scream and ran into the nursery to find her pinned to the ceiling, bleeding from her abdomen. Then she caught fire and the whole room went up."

Jess covered her mouth with a hand. "Oh God …"

"Dad swore to hunt whatever it was down and destroy it." Sam continued, sinking on to the mattress. "But … honestly, Jess, the way we grew up … we never had a childhood. I know Dad thought he was protecting us, but he didn't – just taught us how to protect ourselves."

Jess perched on his lap, pressing a kiss to the side of his head, rubbing his back. "There's something else." She murmured. "What is it?"

"Jess, for the last few weeks," Sam took a deep breath and let it out shakily, "I've been having nightmares … of you … dying … in the same why my Mom did, and … it's scaring me …"

Last week, Jess would have brushed off his concerns, but after the night's revelations, she found it difficult. "Okay, what can we do?"

"Be careful." Sam answered, before choking out a laugh. "I don't know, Jessie. I don't know _what_ killed Mom, none of us do, and if it's coming back …"

"Ssh." Jess soothed, cupping his face. "It was probably just a dream, honey. Why don't I come with you?"

"Jess, that's hardly safer." Sam protested. "It's going to be dangerous and …"

"Then I'll stay in the car." Jess said, rolling her eyes. "I'll be with the two of you, I'll be safe."

Sam grimaced. "Jess … hunting isn't exactly … We may have to do some things that are a little morally and … legally grey."

"Are you going to hurt anyone?" Jess asked, knowing the answer.

"No one living." Sam answered.

"Then I'll deal with it." Jess said. "Let me come with you."

Sam sighed. "Alright. But Dean won't be happy."

* * *

**AN: My first venture into the Supernatural fandom. I'm still not caught up so ... we'll see what happens. This is more to get the plot bunny out of my head.**


	2. Chapter 2

Dean had not been happy, but Sam and Jess had both ignored his grumbling and successfully shut him up by falling asleep midway through it.

The following morning, Jess was woken by the rumbling sound of an 18-wheeler passing the car. She opened her eyes sleepily to realise that they were parked up at a gas station.

Sam was sitting in the front seat, rooting through a box. "Morning."

"Hey." Jess greeted, undoing her belt and letting herself out of the car to stretch. "Where are we?"

"About ten miles away from Jericho." Sam answered.

Jess frowned. "How did we manage that?"

"Dean never sticks to the speed limit if he can help it." Sam admitted.

"Hey." Dean greeted, appearing from the small store. "You want breakfast?"

"No thanks." Sam muttered.

"What have you got?" Jess asked.

"Soda and chips." Dean answered.

Jess shrugged. "Okay. Thanks."

Dean handed her a bottle and a bag, and turned to check the gas flow.

"So how'd you pay for that stuff?" Sam asked casually. "You and Dad still running credit card scams?"

Jess choked on her soda, looking between the two brothers in shock.

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro-ball career." Dean said, replacing the gas nozzle. "Besides, all we do is apply. Not our fault they send us the cards."

"Yeah? And what names did you write on the application this time?" Sam asked, swinging himself back into the car.

"Bert Aframian." Dean answered, ducking into the driver's seat. "And his son, Hector."

"That sounds about right." Sam said with a humourless chuckle.

"Are they real people?" Jess asked warily, following their example.

"No, we're not into the identity theft." Dean said.

"Just identity fraud." Sam muttered. "I swear, man, you gotta update your cassette tape collection."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes." Sam said, smirking. "And two – Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica? It's the greatest hits of mullet rock."

"Well, house rules, Sammy." Dean said, taking the Metallica cassette. "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old." Sam told him flatly. "It's Sam."

* * *

"You just walked into a crime scene and pretended to be federal marshals." Jess muttered, shaking her head. "Unbelievable."

"Look, sweetheart, we've got to do our job somehow." Dean said testily.

"Yeah, but federal marshals don't bicker as much as you two." Jess said, frowning. "That sheriff knew something was up. What happens when he checks?"

"We'll be long gone by then." Sam assured her. "Check it out, Dean – girl pinning posters on the theatre."

"Bet that's the girlfriend." Dean agreed.

"Hang on." Jess cut in. "You gonna give her the fed line too?"

"Nah, the grieving partners are never too cooperative with feds." Dean answered. "We're uncles."

"And when she's met his entire family?" Jess asked, rolling her eyes. "Honestly – let me handle it." She was out the car before either of the men could protest, striding straight past the sniffling girl before doubling back to read the poster.

"Christ, not another one." She muttered.

The girl let out a heart-wrenching sob, and Jess instantly reached out to her. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry … did you know him?"

"My b-b-boyfriend!" The girl sobbed, allowing Jess to embrace her.

"I'm sorry." Jess repeated, rubbing her shoulder. "I didn't mean to …"

"It's not your fault." She fumbled for a tissue before Jess found one in her purse and handed it to her. "Thanks. I just … I just can't believe he's just … _gone_. I was on the phone with him last night and he was driving … he said he'd call me back and … he never did."

"Why'd he hang up?" Jess asked. "Sorry, that's a really weird question."

"No, it's a good one." The girl (Amy, Jess remembered Sam saying) seemed to have recovered from her tears. "We were just talking, and then he said he'd have to call me back. It might have been bad reception, actually. The line was getting a little fuzzy."

Jess's brow creased. What had Troy Squires seen on that road that made him hang up? Clearly nothing that had scared him … but then did ghosts have to be scary?

"Amy." Another young woman approached them, handing Amy some more posters. "I got them copied."

"Thanks." Amy glanced at Jess. "Thanks for the sympathy."

"No problem." Jess said, her eyes cutting back to the poster as the girl left, presumably to put up more.

"They should close that road." The other woman muttered.

"What would just cause young men to disappear like that?" Jess asked, almost to herself.

Her companion snorted. "Maybe it's the ghost."

Jess's breath caught. "What ghost?"

* * *

"For fuck's sake," Dean groaned, "this is not Women's Hour."

"Be patient, Dean." Sam murmured, as Jess disappeared into the café next to the theatre. "She can't just come straight over here. Besides, I could go for coffee."

Sure enough, when Jess emerged a few minutes later, she was carrying three take-out cups.

"It's about time." Dean said, when she climbed into the back seat.

"Shut up." Jess said, handing Sam his coffee. "I guessed you'd take it straight black."

"Good guess." Dean said grudgingly, taking his. "Thanks."

"No problem." Jess said cheerfully, settling back against the seat. "So Amy's very upset, Troy called her last night and said he'd call her back, but he never did …"

"Did you just gossip, or did you get anything useful?" Dean asked.

"She also said that the call was very fuzzy, like the reception was cutting out." Jess continued as though he hadn't spoken. "Oh, and the road's haunted. Local legend. Girl got murdered several decades ago and reportedly picks up hitchhikers that are never seen again. Is that useful?"

Dean and Sam both twisted around to look at her. "Very useful."

"You guys know you do that in unison?" Jess asked, taking a sip of her coffee. "What now?"

"Library." Sam answered. "We need to find out more about that girl."

Jess nodded, somehow not surprised that the legend was true. "Then what?"

"First things first." Dean told her, starting the car.

* * *

_Female Murder Hitchhiking_

_0 Results_

_Female Murder Centennial Highway_

_0 Results_

"Maybe the legend's just that." Jess suggested. "A legend."

"Maybe not." Sam said, nudging Dean. "Let me try."

"I got it." Dean insisted.

Sam rolled his eyes, shoving Dean's chair out the way.

"Dude!" Dean protested, punching Sam in the shoulder. "You're such a control freak!"

"Guys!" Jess hissed. "This is still a library and you're drawing attention yourselves."

"Angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?" Sam asked, lowering his voice.

"Yeah, but there haven't been any." Dean pointed out.

"So maybe it wasn't murder." Sam said.

_Female Suicide Centennial Highway_

_1 Result – Suicide on Centennial_

Jess rested her chin on Sam's shoulder, reading the story that popped up.

_A local woman's drowning death was ruled a suicide, the county Sheriff's Department said earlier today. Constance Welch, 24, of 4636 Breckenridge Road, leapt off Sylvania Bridge, at Mile 33 of Centennial Highway, and subsequently drowned last night._

"1981." Sam whispered. "Constance Welch, 24 years old, jumps of Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river."

"Does it say why she did it?" Dean asked.

"An hour before they found her, she called 911." Jess answered, her throat closing up. "She left her two young children alone in the bathtub for a few minutes and they both drowned. Her husband said that she couldn't bear to live without them."

Dean tapped the screen, the picture of Joseph Welch standing on a bridge. "That bridge look familiar?"

* * *

"So this is where Constance took a swan dive." Dean remarked, leaning on the railing.

"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam asked quietly.

Dean shrugged. "Well, he was chasing the same story and we're chasing him."

"So now what?" Sam asked.

"We keep digging until we find him." Dean answered. "Might take a while."

Sam sighed. "Dean, I told you. We've got to get back by Monday …"

"Monday, right." Dean snorted. "The interview."

Jess bristled, and Sam tightened his arm around her shoulders. "Yeah, the interview."

"Yeah, I forgot." Dean turned to face them, smiling sardonically. "You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?"

Despite her irritation, Jess couldn't help blushing, and Sam glanced at her before answering. "Maybe. Why not?"

"Dude, she only just found out the truth!" Dean said sharply. "You told her about everything you've done?"

Jess felt another shiver run through her and Sam dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Not yet. I'll tell her, Dean, but that's my past …"

"Sooner or later, Sammy, you're gonna have to face up to what you are." Dean said.

"And who's that?" Sam asked stiffly.

"You're one of us." Dean answered, turning away.

"No." Sam said, releasing Jess. "I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life."

Dean didn't turn back. "You have a responsibility to …"

"To Dad?" Sam finished. "And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. I don't remember her, neither of you ever talk about her. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. She's not coming back."

Dean whirled around again, but his retort was halted by Jess's sharp intake of breath. "Guys, look!"

A young woman had suddenly appeared, balanced on the railings of the bridge a few feet away.

Jess had never seen a spirit before, but she hadn't expected her to look so … human.

The boys' argument had trailed off as they too gazed at the beautiful girl, who looked at them sadly, before stepping off the bridge and plunging towards the river.

There was no splash as she hit the water, and when they reached the spot where she had vanished, there was no sign of her.

"Where'd she go?" Dean asked.

"I don't know." Sam answered, peering into the dark river.

The Impala revved behind them, and Jess spun around to see the headlights flick on. "Dean, who's driving your car?"

Wordlessly, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. The car jerked into motion, heading towards them, and Sam grabbed Jess's hand. "Run!"

It was a rather stupid instruction really, because Jess had no intentions of waiting to see if the car would actually hit them.

In her first year of college, her room-mate had asked why she went running every morning – "so I can run away from a ghost-possessed car" had never been one of her answers, but it was certainly a benefit.

No human can really outrun a car, though, and as the Impala gained on them, Sam veered towards the railing. "Jump!"

It was a mark of how much Jess trusted her boyfriend that she complied without question, diving over the balustrade. Somehow, she managed to catch hold of the railings, and Sam grabbed her waist at the same time, both of them clinging to the side of the bridge.

"You alright?" Sam asked breathlessly.

"Yeah." Jess responded as the car came to a stop. "Do you think she's gone?"

"Seems so." Sam said, pulling himself back up and over the railing, before helping Jess do the same.

"You're stronger than you let on." Jess commented.

"You're one to talk." Sam said, examining her wrist. "Most people would have dislocated something doing that."

"I used to do gymnastics when I was younger." Jess reminded him. "As you well know."

Sam grinned. "How could I forget?"

"Where's Dean?" Jess asked suddenly.

The colour drained from Sam's face and he looked around frantically. "Dean? Dean!"

Jess ran back to the railing, squinting down into the river. "Down there! Dean, are you alright?!"

Soaked and covered in mud, Dean collapsed beside the river. "I'm super."


	3. Chapter 3

Still muttering about evil bitches who possessed his car, Dean threw his credit card down on top of the motel counter. "One room please. Two beds."

The clerk didn't look up, just glanced at the name on the card and reached for a key. "You guys having a reunion or something?"

"What do you mean?" Jess asked.

"I had another guy – Burt Aframian." The clerk elaborated. "Came and bought out a room for a whole month."

"Yeah?" Sam asked casually. "Which room was that?"

* * *

"I can't believe we're breaking into a motel room." Jess muttered.

"Well, you can go back to our room, sweetheart, no one's making you stay." Dean said, glancing up and down the corridor.

"Don't call me that!" Jess hissed.

"Guys, please stop fighting." Sam said, straightening as the door swung open.

"Your dad's a hoarder, huh?" Jess murmured, following him into the room. There were notes, photographs and newspaper clippings covering every available surface.

"He was in the middle of a case." Sam explained, dragging Dean into the room and shutting the door.

"He hasn't been here in a few days." Dean remarked, sniffing a half-eaten burger on the nightstand and pulling a face.

"He was worried about something." Sam added grimly, kneeling beside a line of salt on the floor. "Salt, cats-eyes shells. He was trying to stop something from coming in."

"Constance?" Jess asked.

Sam shook his head. "Generally, spirits are confined to a particular area where they died. She wouldn't be able to come here, it's too far away from the road." He looked over at Dean, who was examining the newspaper clippings. "What have you got there?"

"Centennial Highway victims." Dean answered absently. "I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?"

"Maybe it was something private." Jess suggested. "I mean, no one really tells the truth in obituaries, because it's ingrained that we don't speak ill of the dead. Maybe they all … I don't know … had gambling problems, or drank too much, or had affairs, or …"

"Affairs." Dean interrupted, spinning to face her. "Jess, you're a genius!"

"I am?" Jess asked in surprise. "Well, obviously, but what did I say?"

"Affairs." Dean repeated. "She's a …"

"Woman in white." Sam finished, examining another newspaper clipping. "Dad figured it out too."

"What's a woman in white?" Jess asked.

"They're sometimes called a weeping woman." Sam explained. "A phenomenon found all over the world. When they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful, and suffering from temporary insanity, the women killed their children, and took their own lives when they realised what they'd done. But their spirits can't find rest, doomed to wander the roads and waterways, and when they find an unfaithful man …"

"They kill him." Jess finished. "And they're never seen again, right?"

"Right." Sam answered grimly.

Jess frowned. "So … now what?"

* * *

"Here."

Jess started out of her thoughts, taking the coffee from Sam. "Thanks."

"Anything?" Sam asked, nodding at her phone as she slipped it away.

"No. Just wanted to make sure Mom hadn't tried to call me last night." Jess answered. "You know what she's like when I don't answer the phone."

Emily Moore was the only family Jess had left. An only child, her father had died in a car accident when she was six, but Jess's relationship with her mother was a somewhat strained one. Everyone in Emily's family had been Harvard alumni, and that Jess had turned Harvard down in favour of Stanford was somewhat of a sticking point.

On top of that, Emily tended to worry _a lot_ about her daughter.

Sam's phone rang and he glanced at the screen before answering it. "What?"

Judging by his greeting, Jess guessed it was Dean calling. After spending the night in the motel, she and Sam had taken the Impala to get something to eat, leaving Dean to continue looking through the research their father had left behind.

"What about you?" Sam asked, looking worried.

Jess froze, the coffee halfway to her lips. "What's wrong?"

Sam hung up. "Cops showed up at the motel. No prizes for guessing who they're looking for." He rounded the car to the trunk, gesturing for her to follow him. "You know how to use a gun?"

"No." Jess answered shakily. "You're not suggesting we fight it?"

"Of course not." Sam said, opening the spare tyre compartment. "But the Impala's hardly subtle, they'll have recognised it. You haven't done anything wrong, so just lay low." He pulled out a hand gun, checked it, and slipped it into her bag. "Hang on to that. It's fairly easy to use if you need it. You shouldn't; even if you do run into Constance, she wants men."

"What about Dean?" Jess protested. "And what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to keep working." Sam answered. "Talk to Joseph Welch. Dean will wriggle his way out, he always does; when we've sorted it, we'll swing by and pick you up, and get the hell out of here. Alright?"

"Sam …" Jess began.

"Jessie, this isn't your fight." Sam insisted. "It's not fair for you get pulled into all the legal stuff here. The cops might figure out our real first names, but there's nothing that suggests our last – you're screwed." He kissed her then, with a ferocity he'd never really exhibited before, like it might be the last chance he got to do so.

"I love you." She breathed against his lips. "Be safe."

He drew back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You too."

Then he was back in the Impala and it was disappearing down the road.

Jessica took a moment to close her eyes and allow herself to panic inwardly. Then, drawing a deep breath, she opened her eyes again and shouldered her bag, beginning to walk down the road as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

On the inside, her mind was racing. She understood why Sam had acted as he did, and she appreciated it, but he had warned her before they left that they might have to break the law to solve the case.

And that didn't mean that she was just going to sit tight until they came to get her.

Jess couldn't decide whether she liked Dean or not, but he was Sam's brother and that meant something, so the first thing she needed to do was get Dean out of hot water.

_Thank God for amateur dramatics._

Finding her way to the Sheriff's department, Jess stepped through the front door, hoping that they didn't have the security that bigger towns had.

There was nothing and she relaxed, reassured that the gun in her bag wasn't going to cause a problem.

"Can I help you, miss?"

"I'm looking for the Sheriff." Jess said.

"You found him." The man leaned back in his chair. "How can I help?"

"I'm looking for my brother." Jess answered. "You don't happen to have an idiot on the premises, do you?"

The Sheriff raised an eyebrow. "Idiot?"

Jess shrugged. "Fake ID, fake federal credentials, ghost stories or all of the above. Idiot. Is he here or not?"

"Oh, you mean Dean." The Sheriff narrowed his eyes. "What's your name?"

"Jessica Moore." Jess said, handing him her driver's licence and sinking into the chair with a sigh. "He hasn't caused too much trouble, has he?"

"He's the suspect in about ten disappearances." The Sheriff told her grimly. "Possible murders."

Jess shook her head. "No, Dean wouldn't do anything like that. He's an idiot, but he's harmless."

"How long have you been in town, Jessica?"

"Not long." Jess answered truthfully. "Thing is, Sheriff, our mom passed away a few years ago and Dad … Dad was never quite right after that. He convinced himself that some kind of demon killed her and … Well, ever since then he's been a ghost hunter. He hears these stories, like your – uh – disappearing motorists and he digs around and tries to find ghosts. Unfortunately, he's managed to drag my brother down with him."

"And the federal badges?" The Sheriff asked.

Jess shook her head. "I'm sorry, Sheriff. I just … humoured them, you know? Figured they'd get over it, but … they've started going to extreme lengths to get information, and …" A tear rolled down her cheek. "I'm so tired, Sheriff – I'm so tired of baby-sitting them, chasing them all over the country …"

The man leaned across the desk and patted her arm. "It's not your fault, honey. It's never easy losing a parent. Sounds like losing your momma did a number on them."

"It really did." Jess wiped her eyes. "They don't mean any harm, Sheriff, really they don't."

"I guess this is your dad's?" He asked, pushing a leather-bound journal towards her.

Jess took it, and flicked through a couple of pages, her eyes travelling on the notes of cases and supernatural creatures and the occasional burst of Latin. "Yeah, that's Dad's. Told you he'd lost it."

"Well, there are worse hobbies to have." The Sheriff muttered. "The credit card?"

"Credit card?" Jess repeated. "Oh, that's it. I've had it, I can't … I had no idea they'd gone that far, sir, I swear."

The Sheriff nodded understandingly. "Well, I've run the name, it's not real, so we're not looking at identity theft, just fraud. And, from the looks of it, it's his first offence. So I'm going to release Dean into your custody, but I want him out of this town, understand?"

Jess nodded hastily. "Absolutely."

The man reached over to another desk to retrieve a form. "I just need to fill this in. While I'm doing it, any idea what that means?" He added, as Jess turned a page in the journal to find a note that read _Dean 35 -111._

"No idea." Jess admitted. "Probably something like "Dean, it's a ghost" or "Dean, there's nothing here" or "Dean, I've run out of whiskey"."

Her last suggestion surprised a laugh out of the Sheriff, and he signed the form, sticking it a drawer in his desk. "Alright, take him."

"Thank you, Sheriff." Jess said sincerely.

"Just get him out of my sight."

Jess did as she was told, practically dragging Dean out of the precinct. "You're welcome."

"I don't wanna know how you did that." Dean muttered. "We need to go back though, he's got Dad's …"

"Journal?" Jess finished, handing it to him.

Dean took it reverently. "I take back every doubt I ever had about you, Jess. Where's Sam?"

"He went to talk to Constance's husband." Jess answered. "Figured the cops would be looking for the Impala, so left me here so I didn't get arrested too."

"We just got a 911!" A voice called from inside the precinct. "Shots fired over at Whiteford Road!"

Dean smirked. "That's our cue."

"For what?" Jess asked, allowing Dean to pull her away from the precinct.

"Sammy made the call." Dean explained. "He's distracting them."

"Fake 911 call." Jess muttered. "I don't know if I'm impressed or horrified."

"Be impressed." Dean advised. "We need a car."

"Oh no!" Jess said, grabbing his arm. "You are not stealing one." She added quietly, catching sight of a rental shop across the road. "Wait here."

Running across the street to the rental shop, she almost burst through the door, startling the poor clerk behind the desk. She was fairly sure Dean wasn't a very patient man, and didn't want to run the risk of him giving up on waiting.

"Sorry about that." She said, smiling sheepishly. "I have an urgent appointment, and my car won't start. I need a rental for a couple hours."

"We only rent full days, ma'am." He said apologetically.

"Then I'll pay for the whole day." Jess said, pulling a couple of bills from her purse along with her driver's licence. "I just need a car, and I need it quickly."

The sight of the money seemed to spark something in the clerk and he snapped to attention. "Absolutely, ma'am."

Jess hadn't expected the man to almost completely ignore her licence, except to quickly compare the picture and date of birth, but it was a welcome surprise.

"I just need you to sign this insurance disclaimer."

"Yeah, of course." Jess scribbled a hasty signature, almost illegible, then the keys were in her hand and she was out the door.

She found the car fairly easily, and jumped into the driver's seat, pulling up beside Dean. "Get in."

"Nice." Dean said, pulling out his phone. "Let me find out where we're going."

"Put it on speaker." Jess requested.

Dean didn't respond, but pressed the button and set the phone down between them so they could hear it ringing.

"Fake 911 call?" Dean asked when Sam answered. "Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal."

_"You're welcome._" Sam responded, the smile evident in his voice.

"Listen, we gotta talk." Dean said.

_"Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop."_

"Sammy, would you shut up for a second." Dean growled.

_"I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet."_

"That's what I'm trying to tell you." Dean sighed. "He's gone. Dad left Jericho."

_"What? How do you know?"_

"I've got his journal." Dean answered, leafing through it.

_"He doesn't go anywhere without that thing."_

"Yeah, well, this time he did." Dean muttered, pulling out the note that had so puzzled the Sheriff.

_"What's it say?"_

"Same old ex-Marine crap when he wants to let us know where he's going." Dean said grumpily.

_"Coordinates." _Sam concluded, answering Jess's unspoken query. _"Where to?"_

"I don't know yet." Dean admitted.

_"I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? Dean, what the hell is going on? Holy …!"_

As the sound of screeching brakes came across, the connection began to break up.

"Sam?" Dean called. "Sam!"

The connection didn't improve, but a female voice suddenly came into existence, the same voice they'd heard on the recording.

_"Take me home."_


	4. Chapter 4

_"Take me home."_

The call dropped at that moment, and Dean cursed. "Crap. Jess, where did the paper say Constance lived?"

"Er, 4636 Breckenridge Road." Jess answered, thinking quickly.

"Get us there." Dean ordered. "Fast."

Jess nodded, quickly shifting gears. "Is that where Sam is?"

"It's where he will be." Dean said grimly. "Wouldn't be surprised if Constance took control of the car again."

"But why Sam?" Jess asked. "He's faithful."

Dean shook his head. "Honestly, I don't think we're dealing with a regular woman in white. They normally stand by the side of the road, wait for a man to offer them a lift, try to flirt with them, and then kill if the men respond. Given that tyre screech, I'd say she appeared directly in front of the car."

"Maybe she's come to the conclusion that all men will be unfaithful at some point." Jess suggested. "Or, you know, that whole incident on the bridge has something to do with it."

"Turn right." Dean said. "Could be anything."

"What if Sam's not at the house?" Jess asked.

"Then we dig up Constance and make sure she's been disposed of."

Jess nearly stopped the car, but thought better of it. "Hold up. We're going to dig up a corpse?"

"Only way to get rid of a spirit is to salt and burn the remains." Dean confirmed.

Jess grimaced. They'd mentioned a 'salt and burn' the night before, but she hadn't asked. "And if he's already done that and the spirit's still there?"

"Then we figure out another way." Dean answered. "There has to be another weakness. There always is."

As they pulled on to the empty Centennial Highway, Jess pressed on the gas, pushing the speed limit farther than she would ever normally dare, turning on to Breckenridge Road with a squeal of tyres and a faint smell of burning rubber.

4636 was right at the end, and the Impala was parked in front of it. Jess pulled the car to a halt and she and Dean jumped out, a scream escaping her mouth when she saw Sam writhing in the driver's seat.

Even at that distance, she could see blood beginning to spread across his shirt, and Constance Welch flickered in and out of sight on his lap, her once beautiful features twisted after years of awful deeds.

"Sam!" Dean yelled. "Dammit!"

Reaching into her bag, Jess withdrew the gun Sam had given her and held it out. "I don't know how to shoot this thing, but will it help?"

"No, but I'm desperate." Dean took the gun, pulled off the safety and fired a bullet straight through Constance's head, shattering the window.

"Stay back, Jess." He told her, approaching the car, still firing.

Jess flinched at every shot, but still moved forward, wanting to help yet not knowing how.

Finally Constance disappeared, and Dean lowered the gun. "Sam?"

Sam gritted his teeth. "I'm taking you home." He announced. The Impala jerked into motion, driving straight forwards, crashing through the wall of the abandoned house.

"Sam!" Jess screamed, bolting forwards. She and Dean climbed through the wreckage, and Dean immediately dived for the driver's door.

"Sam! Sam, you okay? Can you move?"

"Yeah." Sam's voice answered. "Help me?"

Jess moved to help Dean pull her boyfriend from the car, but froze. Constance Welch was standing a few feet away, holding a large framed photograph, gazing sadly at it.

"Guys?" She asked shakily.

Dean and Sam came to stand either side of her, Sam slipping an arm around her waist and holding her tightly.

Constance dropped the portrait and glared at them, a dresser sliding across the floor and pinning them against the car.

"Sam …" Jess whispered.

"It's okay, Jess." Sam murmured. "It'll be okay."

The woman in white glided towards them, but froze suddenly, turning towards the staircase. Jess peered towards it, seeing water spilling from it.

"Oh God …" She muttered. "At the top. Look."

Silhouetted in a bright light, two small shapes stood hand in hand. Constance disappeared and reappeared at the foot of the stairs, staring up at them.

"You've come home to us, Mommy."

Jess raised a trembling hand to her mouth. The children Constance had drowned were waiting for her. As the spirit turned back towards them, her children were suddenly there, embracing her, and she was screaming, and everything was flickering, and Jess turned her face into Sam's chest, and then there was silence.

"She's gone." Dean said softly.

Trembling, Jess looked up, seeing that all three spirits had vanished. "This is where she drowned her kids. What woman kills her own children?" She asked softly, as the two men shoved the dresser away from them.

"Temporary insanity." Sam reminded her. "That's why she promptly killed herself. Didn't even wait for the paramedics. That was why she could never go home. She was afraid to face them."

"You found her weakness." Dean concluded, slapping Sam on the chest affectionately. "Nice work, Sammy."

"Yeah, wish I could say the same for you." Sam smirked. "I didn't give Jess salt bullets. What were you thinking, shooting Casper in the face, you freak?"

"Hey, saved your ass." Dean said cheerfully, examining the Impala. "I'll tell you another thing – if you screwed up my car, I'll kill you."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, alright. You okay, sweetheart?"

Jess nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Little shaky now the adrenaline's worn off. It was more seeing those kids …"

"Yeah, that's always tough." Sam agreed, kissing her forehead. "But it's over now, and you never have to deal with the supernatural ever again."

"Will you?" Jess asked.

"I wasn't planning on it." Sam admitted quietly. "But then I wasn't planning on this one either."

Jess smiled. "Well, if you do, I do. New deal."

"Luckily for you, Sammy," Dean announced, appearing to have missed their whispered conversation, "Baby's absolutely fine. So let's get that rental back to the shop, and then we can hit the road."

"Alright, let's have a look at those coordinates." Sam said, holding his hand. "See if I can figure out where the hell Dad went."

* * *

"Thanks for the ride, Dean."

"No problem." Dean muttered, as they got out of the car.

Sam leaned in through the window. "Call me if you find him, alright? Maybe I can meet up with you later?"

Dean nodded, a smile crossing his face, the first since Sam had announced that their Dad had been heading for Blackwater Ridge, Colorado, but that he and Jess would need to get back to Stanford. "We made a hell of a team back there."

"Yeah, we did." Sam agreed.

"And it was nice meeting you, Jessica." Dean added. "Keep an eye on Sammy for me."

"It's _Sam_!"

Jess laughed. "Will do, Dean. Take care."

Dean gave them both a salute, and the car pulled off.

"How you doing?" Sam asked, as they made their way up the stairs. "Adrenaline worn off yet?"

Jess chuckled. "It will. How's your chest?"

Sam shrugged. "Just a scratch."

"It looked like she was trying to rip your heart out." Jess argued in a whisper. "Which reminds me, what did you mean about salt bullets?"

"Salt bullets will have an effect on spirits." Sam explained. "But not all our guns are loaded with them, and I … I didn't give you the right one."

He looked a bit guilty, and Jess reached up to kiss his cheek. "I wouldn't have known what to do with it anyway."

Sam smiled weakly, letting them into the apartment. "Well, if you're serious about coming with us again, I'm teaching you how to handle a gun."

"Great!" Jess said brightly, leafing through the mail. "Ooh, Cosmo's here!" When Sam didn't respond, she glanced up at Sam. "What? No comment on how guns and _Cosmopolitan_ don't go together?"

"Jess, shouldn't the mail have been on the mat, rather than on the kitchen counter?" Sam asked quietly.

Jess looked back at the door. "We haven't had a break-in, Sam. Besides, who breaks into an apartment and … tidies up … Oh God …" She groaned, catching sight of a familiar coat on the back of a chair. "Mom's here."

Sam's eyes widened. "Your mother's here? Now?"

"That's what I said." Jess said tiredly. "I gave her a key for emergencies; forgot to tell her I wasn't here." She pulled out her phone. "Six missed calls, ten messages."

"Er, Jess, your mom knows we live together, right?" Sam asked.

Jess shook her head. "No, I haven't told her yet. She thinks I'm on my own." She turned to him apologetically. "We're gonna have to take the couch, honey."

Sam shrugged. "Hey, a spirit tried to kill me today. I don't care where I sleep."

Jess smiled. "Okay, you pull it apart, I'll go and deal with Mom and grab some blankets."

The shower was running when Jess walked into the bedroom. Part of her hoped that maybe she could get them both situated on the couch and 'asleep' before her mother emerged, so they could talk in the morning.

The rest of her knew that her mother would freak if she walked out into the living room and saw Jess sleeping 'with a boy', and it was probably best if neither of them would startle awake, so the introductions would have to be made as soon as possible.

If her mother didn't like it, then …

Something warm and wet dripped on to Jess's forehead as she crossed the floor, and she closed her eyes momentarily.

_Great. We've got a leak._

Another few droplets fell, and Jess looked up, to be confronted with the sight of her mother sprawled against the ceiling, a crimson stain spreading across her stomach.

"_MOM!_"

As the scream escaped her, Emily Moore spontaneously burst into flames, the sudden surge of heat driving Jess back towards the door, which burst open as Sam crashed into the room.

He took in the scene with wide eyes, before pulling her into his arms. "Oh God, Jess … Jess, we have to go …"

Jess barely heard him, continuing to scream for her mother. Distantly, she heard the front door being kicked in, heard Dean's voice, felt them both carry her out of the apartment.

She curled up in Sam's arms on the hood of the Impala, staring numbly at the smoking building, at the fire-fighters who arrived in response to the frantic 911 calls of their neighbours.

She was oblivious to the well-meaning words of sympathy, the harried questions, Dean's increasingly frustrated dealings with the police who had turned up as well.

The tenth time someone said they should talk to Jessica, Dean gave up on tact. "Does it look like she had anything to do with this?!"

His opponent in this round of 'how many ways can we make this look like arson' looked like he shouldn't even be out of high school, all acne and bad breath, constantly pushing his glasses back up his noise like some kind of repetitive muscle spasm. "All the same, sir, we need to know what she knows."

"She _knows_ that she found her mother in a burning room." Dean hissed. "Sam and I dragged her out, and then all hell broke loose. She's completely distraught, so back off and leave her alone!"

"Sir, there is absolutely no need for …"

"Jenkins! That's enough." A man who appeared to be Acne's boss approached them, giving Dean a respectful nod. "Faulty wiring in the ceiling of the bedroom. Nothing anyone could do."

"The dreams." Sam whispered into Jess's hair. "Jess, I'm so sorry."

This broke through. Lifting her head, Jess slid from Sam's lap and took his hand, pulling him round to the back of the Impala and opening the trunk. "It's not your fault." She said lowly. "You did everything you could, Sam. You assumed it was me, warned me, kept me safe …"

Sam sighed. "It was your mom. The dreams were always slightly fuzzy when I woke up … I just assumed it was you."

"And you did what you could." Jess said thickly. "You didn't pin her to the ceiling and set her on fire, that was …" Realisation dawned in her eyes. "That was the thing that killed _your_ mother, wasn't it?"

"Probably." Sam looked at her with eyes filled with pain and guilt. "I'm so sorry, Jess."

"It wasn't your fault." Jess muttered, wiping her eyes.

"But …"

"It _wasn't_ your fault." Jess repeated firmly, giving him a watery glare.

Dean rounded the car to join them, shrugging on his jacket. "Well, they're all takin' off. How you holding up, Jess?"

When had he stopped calling her Jessica?

_After you lied to a Sheriff to break him out of prison after he broke about five different laws._

"I just lost the last family member I had left." Jess said quietly. "How d'you think?"

"Yeah, I get that." Dean muttered, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Is there anything we can do?"

Jess's eyes landed on the spare tyre compartment. "Teach me." She said firmly. "And take me with you."

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked over her head at Sam. "What do you think?"

Sam looked up at their smoking apartment and nodded once, closing the trunk. "We've got work to do."

* * *

**AN: Thank you for sticking with me thus far. The question now is what to do with it?**

**A) Finish the story now**  
**B) Finish the story now and post a sequel of potentially unrelated and messy oneshots looking at how Jess's presence may have affected things**  
**C) Carry on here and work Jess in in a (hopefully) logical and chronological way.**

**A, B or C, please vote now.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, the overwhelming response was to continue this story, so I'm going to. It's unlikely that any episodes will take four chapters again, but we'll see how we go. Also, Jess's involvement with hunts will fluctuate depending on a) the circumstances and b) her experience.**

* * *

"Maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon."

Dean sighed. "Sam, we dug around there for a week. If we want to find the thing that killed Jess's mom …"

"We have to find Dad first." Sam finished.

"I can hear you, you know." Jess murmured, her head resting against the window.

"Thought you were asleep." Dean said, no apology in his voice. "Dad's disappearance, and this thing showing up again after twenty years, it's no coincidence."

"Might not be anything sinister." Jess said, without opening her eyes. "Maybe your dad got a lead, or something."

"And didn't tell us?" Dean questioned. "Didn't tell _me_? He left in the middle of a case, just disappeared …"

"Leaving you coordinates." Jess pointed out. "He wasn't just taken."

"Speaking of those coordinates," Sam said, examining the map, "this Blackwater Ridge …"

"What about it?" Dean prompted.

"There's nothing there." Sam answered. "Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?"

Dean shrugged, pulling up outside the Ranger Station of Lost Creek National Park. "Alright, everybody out."

"Me too?" Jess asked.

"If you want." Dean said, non-committedly.

"We don't know if anything _is_ going on." Sam told her quietly. "So we're UC Boulder students working on a paper."

"Got it." Jess said, letting her hair down and running a hand through it, before tying it back more securely. "What do we know about this place?"

"Well, Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote." Sam explained, tapping on the door before pushing it open.

The office was empty, and Sam wandered over to a large 3D map of the forest, pointing out the Ridge. "It's cut off by these canyons here, rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place …"

"Dude, check out the size of this freakin' bear!" Dean said, examining the photographs on the wall.

"… and a dozen or more grizzlies in the area." Sam finished. "It's no nature hike, that's for sure."

"You kids aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?"

Jess spun around, startled, to see that the ranger had returned. "Oh no, sir. We're environmental study majors from UC Boulder. Just working on a paper."

Dean raised a fist lazily. "Recycle, man."

"Bull." The ranger said gruffly. "You're friends with that Haley girl, right?"

"Yes." Dean said, after a second's hesitation. "Yes we are, Ranger … Wilkinson."

"Well, I will tell you exactly what we told her." Ranger Wilkinson said tiredly, seating himself behind his desk. "Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the 24th, so it's not exactly a missing person now, is it?"

"No, I suppose not." Jess answered. "But she's ever so worried."

"Well, tell her to quit worrying." Ranger Wilkinson said bluntly, but not unkindly. "I'm sure her brother's just fine."

"We will." Dean said. "That Haley girl's quite a pistol, isn't she?"

"That is putting it mildly." Ranger Wilkinson muttered.

"Actually, you know what would help," Dean said innocently, "is if I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit. You know, so she could actually see her brother's return date."

Jess couldn't quite believe the ranger went for it, but they walked out of the ranger station a few minutes later with a copy of the permit in hand.

"Look, this isn't necessary." Sam said bluntly. "We should be finding Dad."

Dean sighed. "Look, Sammy, if we're right, and Dad's out there, then whatever made this Haley girl's brother disappear might be related …"

"_If_ he disappeared." Sam pointed out. "The ranger has a point."

"And if Jess is right, and Dad isn't in trouble, but sending us places, then maybe he wants us to help figure out what's going on." Dean continued. "So I say we find a motel, and then go and talk to Haley. And then tomorrow, we can head out to the Ridge."

"We?" Jess repeated. "Listen, I know I said I wanted in, but you don't even know what's out there, and …"

"She's right." Sam agreed. "It could be anything, and Jess isn't nearly experienced enough."

"And that's why she's staying in the motel." Dean concluded, rolling his eyes.

* * *

"How'd the talk with Haley go?" Jess asked quietly.

While Dean and Sam had gone to talk to Hayley (playing the part of rangers), Jess had done her own research and they had met up at the bar near the motel to get something to eat and compare notes.

"Well, we're getting company tomorrow whether we like it or not." Sam said wearily. "Haley has a younger brother, Ben, and they're both taking matters into their own hands to find Tommy. She sent me the pictures and video messages that Tommy had been sending, and there's definitely something out there. You can see the shadow move past the tent."

"Yes, there is." Jess agreed.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Why do I get the feeling you've been busy?"

Jess smirked. "Because while you were out, I looked through your dad's journal. Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic – local campers mostly – but last April, two hikers went missing and were never found. In 1982, eight different people vanished throughout the year – authorities said it was a grizzly. Again in 1959, and before that in 1936, Every 23 years, like clockwork. In 1959, one camper survived the 'grizzly' attack – a kid, barely came out alive."

Dean's eyes lit up. "Not bad, Jess. You get a name."

Jess grinned. "Oh, I did one better …"

_Jess felt a little nervous knocking on the door of the small house, but steeled herself. The door opened on an elderly man, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. "Yes?"_

_"Mr Shaw?" Jess asked. "I'm terribly sorry to bother you this late, but I'm a student at UC Boulder, and I'm writing a paper on Blackwater Ridge …"_

_"Let me guess." The old man said hoarsely. "You want to know about what happened in '59? It's all public record, missy. Parents were mauled by a …"_

_"Grizzly." Jess finished. "Yeah, I read that. And the other people that year, they were all grizzly attacks? But the bear was never found or killed, and there was nothing the next year."_

_"You wouldn't believe me." Mr Shaw said tiredly. "No one ever did."_

_"I will." Jess said gently. "Whatever it was. I'll believe you."_

_Mr Shaw jerked his head. "Come inside then. You won't be able to use it for your paper though. No one'll believe you either."_

_"That's alright." Jess assured him, wiping her feet in the mat. "I'm just … morbidly curious, I suppose. What did you see?"_

_"Nothing." Mr Shaw answered, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of the fire. "It moved too fast to see … hid too well. I heard it, though. A roar. Like … no man or animal I ever heard."_

_"It came at night?" Jess asked softly. "Got inside your tent?"_

_"Inside our cabin." Mr Shaw corrected. "I was sleeping in front of the fireplace when it came it. It didn't smash a window or break the door. It unlocked it. Do you know of a bear that could do something like that?"_

_Jess shook her head, her mind racing. Over the last week, she had been reading John Winchester's journal, trying to memorise everything, but there was so much to take in._

_"I didn't even wake up till I heard my parents screaming."_

_Jess swallowed. "It killed them?"_

_"Dragged them off into the night." Mr Shaw shook his head tiredly. "Why it left me alive … been asking myself that ever since." He lifted a trembling hand to his collar, undoing one of the buttons. "Did leave me this though."_

"He let me take a photograph." Jess finished, showing them her phone so they could see the three long claw marks that had adorned his skin. "He said there was something evil in the woods, like a demon."

"Demons don't have to unlock doors." Dean disagreed. "Neither do spirits. They just go through the walls."

"So it's probably something else." Sam concluded. "Something corporeal."

"Corporeal?" Dean repeated. "Excuse me, Professor."

"Shut up." Sam said, rolling his eyes. "So what do you think?"

Dean sighed. "The claws, the speed … could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog. Whatever it is, we're talking about a creature, and it's … corporeal." He smirked at his brother. "Means we can kill it."

* * *

The following night, Jess didn't sleep at all. Sam had assured her they'd keep in touch, and he'd sent her a text every hour, letting her know they were safe.

The last text read: _At the coordinates. Found the camp, everything's destroyed. Something definitely out here._

Then, there was nothing.

Jess felt thoroughly useless, although she knew she wouldn't be much more help out there. In fact, her presence would only give Sam and Dean one more person to protect, so she was _more_ help back at the motel.

She didn't even have the journal to take her mind off of things, because Dean had taken it with them, although that was somewhat of a blessing, because her half-formed images of worse-case scenarios _were_ only half-formed.

It was lunchtime the day after Sam and Dean had left that her phone rang, and she dived for it. "Hello?"

_"Jess, it's me."_

Feeling her legs wobble with relief, Jess sank on to one of the beds. "Oh thank God … where are you?"

_"We're on our way back. We should reach the ranger station by six; it was a wendigo, we got it."_

"What's a …?" Jess cut herself off. "Never mind, tell me later. I'll meet you at the ranger station."

_"Thanks. Love you."_

"Love you too." Jess ended the call, falling back onto the pillow.

It was time for her to stop learning theory and start learning practice, she decided, because waiting was far worse than anything.

* * *

Jess arrived at the station a second before the ambulance pulled up, and three paramedics jumped out to wait with her. She hoped that the paramedics were just there for Haley's brother (Tommy, she remembered).

Sam hadn't mentioned him or Dean being hurt, but then he wouldn't have wanted to worry her.

The paramedics shifted beside her and then suddenly burst forward as five people emerged from the forest trail, Dean and Sam practically carrying a young man who seemed to be missing chunks of flesh.

She managed to wait until the paramedics were preoccupied with Tommy, before hurrying over to practically throw herself at Sam.

He caught her easily, holding her tightly against him. "I'm fine."

"Thank God …" Jess breathed, clinging to him. "I was so worried, Sam. What happened?"

"Son of a bitch lured us away from the camp and stole our stuff." Dean grumbled. "But we got him."

"Are either of you hurt?" One of the paramedics asked.

Dean gave her a weary smile. "Nothing an aspirin won't fix, thanks."

Jess opened her mouth to disagree, since Dean seemed to be heavily favouring his left leg, but Sam kissed her instead.

"Nothing we can't handle." He murmured against her lips. "We don't have insurance."

That made sense, of course. Now that she thought about it, her own medical insurance had lapsed as well.

"Here come the cops." Dean murmured, shifting slightly.

"What's the story?" Jess asked quietly.

"Grizzly." Sam answered. "You don't need to worry, sweetie. As far as they'll be aware, we're friends of the family, wanted to help Haley find her brother."

"And will Haley back you up?" Jess asked.

Dean grinned. "She saw the wendigo. They both did. They'll back us up. Ben looks a bit nervous though, Sammy. Go and give him some moral support."

Sam rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to Jess's forehead before releasing her, and striding over to the young teen.

"Are you both okay?" Jess asked softly.

"Fine." Dean assured her. "I'm worse than Sam, but we can handle it."

Jess wasn't entirely convinced, but nodded, letting the matter drop. It didn't take long for the police to finish with their questions, then Tommy was loaded into the ambulance, Haley thanked the two Winchesters, and she and Ben accompanied their brother to the hospital.

"Now what?" Jess asked, once they were alone.

"Well, Sam and I did some thinking out there." Dean said. "We think you're right. Whatever Dad's up to, he wants us to pick up where he left off. So I say, we hit the road and keep going until we find something else."

"And in the meantime," Sam added, "we need to teach you how to fight."

"Yeah, you do." Jess agreed. "Can we at least get something to eat before we go?"

Dean's stomach made a loud noise in agreement. "Good idea."

Sam slung an arm around her shoulders as they walked towards the Impala. "Food does sound good."

"So what exactly _is_ a wendigo?" Jess asked curiously.

Dean sighed. "Your turn, Sammy."

"Don't call me Sammy."


	6. Chapter 6

Dean Winchester was an eternal ladies' man, Jess decided, sipping her coffee. He was sitting opposite her in the small diner, only half paying attention to the newspaper in his hand.

The rest of it was fully on the waitress, who was hovering beside him and flirting shamelessly.

"Can I get you anything else?" She asked sweetly, her voice dripping with promise that 'anything else' didn't have to include something on the menu.

"Just the check please." Sam answered, returning from the restroom.

She smiled tightly at him. "Sure thing."

As Sam slid into the booth beside Jess, Dean's face fell. "Sammy, we are allowed to have fun once in a while. That's fun."

"Why are you trawling through the paper anyway?" Jess asked curiously, trying to avoid a fight. "No one really believes in the supernatural, things aren't going to just pop up, are they?"

"They are if you know what to look for." Dean said, pushing the paper across to them. He'd been reading through the obituaries, and he'd circled one of them. "Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. Last week, Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walks into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water; nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year, and none of the other bodies were found either. Funeral was two days ago."

"Funeral?" Sam repeated.

"Yeah, they buried an empty coffin." Dean confirmed. "For closure, or whatever."

"Closure?" Sam snorted. "What closure? People don't just disappear, Dean. Other people stop looking for them."

"Sam …" Jess said gently, taking his hand.

"The trail for Dad is getting colder every day." Sam continued, ignoring her.

"Exactly." Dean said. "So what do you propose we do? I'm not going to stop looking for Dad, Sam. But I'm not going to ignore things like this, when we could be helping people. Besides, don't you think your girlfriend deserves a bit of field experience?"

"Don't drag me into this." Jess warned, but Sam looked thoughtful.

"Alright." He agreed. "Let's go and check it out."

"Good." Dean gave the waitress a charming smile as she returned with the bill. "Thanks. Any chance I could get your number as well?"  
Sam just sighed.

* * *

"Alright, Jessica. Go."

"Go where?" Jess asked, startled.

Dean grinned at her. "Start theorising. Can't just let us do all the work, you know."

"You guys know more than me." Jess muttered, falling on to her bed and promptly wincing. "I hate motel mattresses."

"Suck it up, princess." Dean said cheerfully. "You'll get used to them."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean …"

"He's fine." Jess assured him.

Having received directions (and a tour guide) to the nearest motel from Andrea, the Sheriff's daughter, the three 'Wildlife Service agents' had managed to procure a room (the clerk had profusely apologised that they only had one available, but had managed to find a third travel bed for them), and had set up office in the middle of it.

"So there have been three drowning victims this year." Jess continued, thinking aloud. "What about before then?"

"Six more." Sam answered. "Spread out over the last 35 years, and those bodies were never recovered either. If there is something out there, it's picking up its pace."

"So a lake monster on a binge?" Dean asked.

Jess grimaced. "I don't think it's a lake monster."

"Why not?" Sam asked. "I mean, I don't either, but why not?"

"Because a lake monster, I'm assuming, would be corporeal." Jess pointed out. "But the Sheriff said they'd dredged the lake, several times, and found nothing. Unless you guys know of a lake monster that can disappear and reappear at will."

They both shook their heads.

"Plus," Jess went on, "this town has been here for longer than 35 years, so why did no one drown before then? Why did it start killing people?"

Dean nodded thoughtfully. "Sammy? Your reasoning as well?"

"Not quite." Sam admitted. "Everywhere else reported to have lake monsters – Loch Ness, Lake Champlain … there are hundreds of eyewitness accounts, but there's nothing here. Whatever it is, there's no one living to talk about it." He raised an eyebrow, reading something on his laptop. "On second thoughts …"

"What?" Dean asked.

"Christopher Barr, the victim in May, was Andrea Barr's husband." Sam said. "He took their son out swimming; Lucas was on a floating wooden platform when Chris drowned and it was two hours before the kid was rescued."

"Poor boy." Jess whispered, remembering the silent boy with the mop of hair they'd met in the Sheriff's office.

"So we do have an eyewitness." Dean said thoughtfully. "Where do you reckon he and Andrea are now?"

* * *

In the end, they found Andrea at the park, watching Lucas at a nearby picnic table with several army men surrounding his drawings.

"Mind if we join you?" Sam asked.

Andrea glanced up at them. "I'm here with my son."

"Oh." Dean said, looking over. "Mind if I go and say hi?"

Jess followed Dean towards the young boy, hearing Andrea say, "Tell your friend this whole _Jerry Maguire_ thing is not gonna work on me."

"Alright, Jess." Dean muttered. "Go on."

Jess shook her head. "I think you might be able to connect with him more, Dean. I understood what happened to my mom, more or less. You didn't."

"Hey Lucas." Dean greeted, sitting on the other side of the bench. "How's it going?"

Lucas spared them both a glance, but kept colouring.

"Army men, huh?" Dean asked, picking one of them up. "I loved these when I was a kid. You ever play with them, Jess?"

Jess shook her head. "I was more of a Barbie girl. Don't suppose you've got any of those lying about?"

Lucas didn't respond, but she was sure she caught the ghost of a smile on his face.

"So crayons more your thing?" Dean asked. "That's cool. Chicks dig artists."

Jess didn't bother chiding him, looking at the picture of a red bicycle on top of Lucas's pile of pictures. "These are pretty good, Lucas."

"You mind if I sit and draw with you for a while?" Dean asked, picking up a crayon. "You know, I'm thinking you can hear us, you just don't wanna talk. And that's fine. I don't know what happened to your dad, but it was something bad. I think I know how you feel; when I was your age, I saw something. Maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you, or believe you, but I will. You don't even have to say anything if you don't want to. You could draw me a picture if you like, of what happened, on the lake." He handed Lucas a picture of stick people. "This is my family. That's my dad, and my mom, and me. And that's my geeky little brother."

"No offence, Dean." Jess said. "But Lucas is better than you."

This time, she definitely got a sort of smile, but neither of them pressed the matter, returning to Andrea and Sam.

"He hasn't said a word, not even to me." Andrea said, looking a little apologetic. "Not since his dad's accident."

"Yeah, we heard." Dean said gently. "I'm sorry."

"I guess it's some kind of post-traumatic stress." Jess remarked quietly. "Sorry, I trained as a nurse, before I changed jobs and …"

"No, that's what the doctors say." Andrea agreed. "We moved in with my dad, which has helped, but when I think about what he went through …"

"Kids are stronger than we believe them to be." Dean said wisely.

"He'll start communicating again." Jess predicted. "It might not be verbal, but he will."

Andrea nodded. "The doctors said that too. He used to have such a life, hard to keep up with at times. Now he just sits there, drawing these pictures, playing with those army men." She smiled weakly as Lucas approached them, carrying a piece of paper. "Hey sweetie."

Wordlessly, Lucas handed Dean the piece of paper, and headed back to the bench.

"Thanks Lucas." Dean said, examining it. "He's quite the artist, Andrea. Budding talent there."

Andrea's smile became more genuine. "That he is."

* * *

The picture, of the Carlton's house, turned out to be more of a clue than they expected, when Sophie's brother Will was mysteriously drowned in the kitchen sink. The news that Christopher Barr had been Bill Carlton's godson made it rather obvious that the Carltons were being targeted.

The three had promptly returned to Andrea, who had reluctantly let Dean in to talk to Lucas again, who (although keeping stubbornly mute) had handed him another picture of a young boy on a red bike outside a house beside a church.

"There's that red bicycle again." Jess murmured, examining it as they searched the two on foot.

"Again?" Sam repeated.

"Lucas had a picture of a red bicycle in the park, remember Dean?" Jess asked.

"Yeah, he did." Dean muttered, coming to a halt. "That church look familiar?"

Jess held the picture up, comparing the two scenes. "That's the house." She said, pointing at the gates. "Right there." She frowned. "But that's not right."

"Why do you say that?" Dean asked.

Jess ran her eyes over the house, noting the pristine state of the garden, the lack of colour. "No child lives in that house." She said with certainty.

"So where'd the kid come from?" Dean asked.

Jess felt a tugging in her gut. "Let me handle this one? Please?"

The two boys exchanged a look, but shrugged. "Alright." Sam agreed. "We'll meet you back at the motel."

Jess nodded, pressing his hand once, before crossing the street to the house. Generally speaking, if agents (of any organisation) were dating, they weren't sent on the same assignments, so they were keeping it under wraps. As it was, they'd have to tweak their cover stories – three environmental agents to investigate drownings that had nothing to do with the environment seemed a bit excessive.

When she reached the house, she checked the mailbox, finding a piece of junk mail addressed to a Mrs Sweeney. She left it there, but made a note of the name, knocking on the front door.

It was a shot in the dark, and Jess knew it was risky, but she was sure she was right, so when the elderly woman opened the door, she gave her a soft smile and said, "Mrs Sweeney? My name is Jessica. If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to talk to you about your son."

"My Peter?" The woman whispered. "What … Why?"

"I'm a history major interested in local history." Jess lied. "I came across the story and …"

"They never found him." Mrs Sweeney murmured.

"I know." Jess said sympathetically. "I know it sounds silly, but I wanted to check up on you, make sure you're alright."

"Oh, you're a dear." Mrs Sweeney said, waving her hand. "Come in, dear, come in. I just put the kettle on, let me get you some coffee."

"Oh, that's alright …" Jess began, but she was swept into an armchair and presented with a mug of coffee and some cookies before she could finish. "Well, if you insist."

"Peter was such a good boy." Mrs Sweeney sighed. "Never any trouble. His father died when he was a baby, you see, but he was such a help to me. I've tried letting go, but …" Her hand touched one of the toy soldiers sitting on a side table. "It's hard."

"I know." Jess said gently. "Is that Peter in the picture?"

"That's my Peter." Mrs Sweeney confirmed, with a tear-filled smile. "It still doesn't feel real."

Jess reached out to her. "Tell me about it."

* * *

Jess left Mrs Sweeney's house over an hour later, not wanting to leave the woman when she was so upset, but was surprised to see the Impala driving towards her.

It pulled up and she got in immediately. "What's going on?"

"We're leaving." Dean answered bluntly. "Sheriff caught on. Bill Carlton just went out on the lake in a boat and got dragged in. Boat's vanished as well."

"Sheriff said if we didn't leave he was keeping us all as material witnesses." Sam explained.

Jess sighed. "Peter's probably at rest now anyway." She murmured.

"Peter?" Dean asked sharply.

"Peter Sweeney vanished 35 years ago." Jess explained. "He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school, but never arrived. He and the bike were never seen again. He was friends with Bill Carlton. My guess is that he stopped by the lake to play with Bill and Bill accidentally killed him." She pulled Sam's laptop out of the bag on the seat next to her, and opened it, causing the old news reports to pop up.

"I don't like it." Dean muttered. "I mean, it's got all the marks of an angry spirit, but Lucas … Lucas doesn't have a connection to Bill Carlton. Grand-godson isn't a thing, is it?"

"No." Jess answered, as Dean pulled up to crossroads. "But here's something else interesting. One of the older drownings was Emily Devins."

"As in Sheriff Devins?" Sam asked, twisting around to look at her.

"Exactly." Jess confirmed. "And I can't find a connection to Bill Carlton."

"And Lucas was terrified." Dean muttered, swinging the car round. "We're not going anywhere until I know that kid's okay."

"Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" Sam asked, but Dean said nothing until they had pulled up outside Andrea's house.

"Are you sure?" Jess asked, as they followed Dean to the front door. "It's pretty late."

Dean ignored her, ringing the doorbell. They heard pounding feet, and the door flew open to reveal Lucas, white-faced and terrified. He took one look at them and took off towards the stairs, the three adults close behind him.

Lucas skidded to a halt outside a closed door, rattling the doorknob, before looking at them helplessly.

Jess pulled Lucas out of the way, enveloping the shaking boy in her arms, giving Dean room to kick the door in.

Brown water was pouring out of the bathtub, and Sam dived for it, reaching in further than should have been possible. Andrea's head appeared, but something sucked her back under again. Dean joined his brother, and between the two of them, they managed to pull Andrea out of the tub and into the hallway.

"Take Lucas." Jess said to Dean. "Sam, give me a hand with her."

Sam whipped his hoodie off so they could preserve what was left of Andrea's modesty, and they helped the woman to sit up and lean forward, so Jess could rub her back, helping her cough up the water that had entered her lungs.

Lucas was whimpering, clinging to Dean, his eyes fixed on his mother.

"Hey, Lucas," Jess said calmly, "you want to help your mom?"

He nodded jerkily.

"Can you show Dean where the towels are kept?" Jess asked. "Then we'll get your mom dried off, okay?"

Lucas nodded, pulling Dean down the hallway.

"Andrea, let's get you out of the hall." Jess said gently. "Do you need help?"

Andrea nodded, still coughing, and Jess and Sam helped her to her feet, almost carrying her to her bedroom across the hall.

"Anything I can do?" Sam asked.

"Go and make her a cup of tea." Jess answered, still rubbing the woman's back. "And direct Dean and Lucas in here with towels."

Sam nodded, and hurried out of the room, just as Lucas poked his head round the door, and scampered in with a towel.

"Where's Dean, kiddo?" Jess asked, handing the towel to Andrea, who seemed to have caught her breath.

Lucas pointed back at the hall, and Jess nodded. "Alright. How are you doing, Andrea?"

"I'm fine." Andrea said with a weak smile.

Catching on, Jess gave Lucas a brighter smile. "Why don't you see if Dean can whip you up some hot chocolate? I think you deserve some."

"Good idea." Andrea agreed hoarsely. "Powder's in the bottom cupboard."

"Bottom cupboard, Dean." Jess repeated, slightly louder.

"Got it." He responded, as Lucas trotted back to him.

"Real answer?" Jess prompted.

Andrea shivered. "I will be fine, but …"

"I know." Jess said soothingly. "You want some privacy."

"No." Andrea said hastily, grasping her hand. "No, please stay."

"Alright." Jess agreed.

"If you're not Wildlife Service agents," Andrea said curiously, "what are you?"

Jess chuckled wryly. "It's a long story. You probably wouldn't believe it."

* * *

Several hours later, Andrea had almost recovered, but was still refusing to talk about what happened in the bath-tub, despite Jess's explanation of what they were (which she had given at Andrea's insistence).

"It doesn't make any sense." She repeated. "I'm going crazy."

"No, you're not." Sam assured her, handing her what must have been her sixth cup of tea. "Tell me what happened. Everything."

"I heard …" Andrea faltered. "I thought I heard … there was this voice."

"What did it say?" Sam asked gently.

"It said … It said 'Come play with me'."

Jess and Dean were examining the books that lined the walls of the living room, listening intently to Andrea, but trying to avoid crowding her.

Jess came across a photo album and carefully extracted it, finding the label _Jake – 12 years old._

"Jake …" She murmured under her breath. That was the name of the Sheriff. She flipped through the pictures, until she came across one of an Explorer Troop.

"Andrea." She said, bringing the album over. "Do you know who these people are?"

Andrea examined it. "Not all of them. That's my Dad there though." She added, pointing to one of the boys. "He must've been about 12, I guess."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Because that boy next to him is Peter Sweeney." Jess answered, pointing him out. "I don't think the connection was just through Bill Carlton."

"Connection?" Andrea repeated. "What are you talking about?"

Dean frowned, glancing over at Lucas, who was standing very still, staring out of the window. "Lucas? You okay?"

Lucas didn't respond, but walked out of the room and out of the front door.

"Lucas?" Andrea called, jumping to her feet.

They followed the young boy out of the house to a spot among the trees with a view of the lake and jetty, just visible through the dawning light.

He stopped, looking hard at the ground, then up at Dean.

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam and Jess, and put a hand on Andrea's shoulder. "You and Lucas go back to the house and stay there."

Andrea nodded, pulling Lucas back towards the house. Dean retrieved three shovels from the Impala's trunk, and the three of them began digging.

It didn't take long before Sam's shovel struck something, and they abandoned the tools in favour of brushing dirt away from what turned out to be a child's red bicycle.

"Peter's bike." Jess concluded sadly.

"Who are you?!" A voice barked.

Jess looked up sharply, freezing when she realised she was almost directly staring down the barrel of a gun.

"Put the gun down, Jake." Sam said firmly, dropping his shovel and pushing Jess behind him.

The Sheriff's eyes fell on the bike. "How did you know that?"

"What happened?" Dean asked. "You and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake and buried the bike? You can't bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about." Jake hissed.

"You and Bill killed Peter Sweeney 35 years ago." Dean barked. "That's what the hell I'm talking about!"

"Dad!" Andrea cried, skidding to a halt a few feet away.

"And now you've got one seriously pissed off spirit." Dean concluded, as though Andrea hadn't arrived.

"It's gonna take Andrea, Lucas, everyone you love." Jess said softly. "It's going to drown them, then drag the bodies God knows where, so you can feel the same pain Peter's mom felt. Bill Carlton told us that losing both of his children was worse than dying, and that's exactly was Mrs Sweeney said to me about losing Peter. And after that, it's going to take you, and it's not gonna stop until it does."

"Yeah?" Jake sneered. "And how do you know that?"

"Because that's exactly what it did to Bill Carlton." Sam answered.

Jake shook his head. "Listen to yourselves. You're insane."

"I don't really give a rat's ass what you think of us." Dean said, rolling his eyes. "But if we're gonna bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them into dust. Now tell me you buried Peter somewhere. Tell me you didn't just let him go in the lake."

"Dad, is any of this true?" Andrea asked, aghast.

"No." Jake said bluntly. "Don't listen to them. They're liars and dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Jess repeated incredulously. "We just saved your daughter's life!"

"Something tried to drown me, Dad." Andrea agreed. "Chris died on that lake. Dad, look at me!"

Jake's eyes shot to his daughter, who was staring pleadingly at him.

"Tell me you … Tell me you didn't kill anyone!"

Jake averted his eyes, the gun in his hand wavering slightly.

"Oh my God …" Andrea whispered, looking horrified.

"Billy and I were at the lake." Jake said suddenly. "Peter was the smallest one … We always bullied him, but this time … it got rough. We were holding his head under the water … we didn't mean to, but … but we held him under too long and … and he drowned. We let the body go, and it sank."

The three hunters exchanged a horrified look, identical to the one on Andrea's face, but for a very different reason.

"Oh, Andrea, we were kids." Jake whispered. "We were so scared. It was a mistake! But, Andrea, to say that I had anything to do with these deaths … with Chris? Because of some ghost? It's not rational."

"If the body's gone, what do we do?" Jess asked.

"We need to get Andrea and her family away from this lake." Dean said firmly. "As far away as we can. Right now."

Suddenly, Andrea let out a gasp of horror, and they spun around to see Lucas on the jetty, reaching down towards the water.

"Lucas!" Jake shouted.

Dean and Sam took off, sprinting towards the lake, but the others weren't far behind.

"Lucas!" Dean called.

"Lucas, baby, stay where you are!" Andrea yelled.

Just as they reached the edge of the water, Lucas tilted forward and plunged into the water, and Andrea screamed, as a young boy's head, eyes milky white, surfaced for a second before vanishing.

Dean and Sam reached the end of the jetty within seconds of each other and dived in; Jess caught Andrea's arm as she made to follow suit.

"You need to stay up here."

"That's my son!" Andrea sobbed.

"I know." Jess soothed, putting an arm around her. "But Peter doesn't want Dean and Sam, he does want you. They'll be safe; you won't."

The boys resurfaced, shaking water out of their eyes.

"Sam?"

Sam shook his head, and Dean grimaced, diving back under again.

"No, Lucas …" Andrea groaned, shaking.

"Peter?"

Jess looked around, to see that Jake had removed his jacket and was wading out into the lake. "Peter, if you can hear me … please, Peter, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Daddy!" Andrea screamed. "Daddy, no!"

"Peter, Lucas … he's just a little boy!" Jake called. "Please, it's not his fault, it's mine! Please take me!"

Dean and Sam resurfaced again, and Dean's eyes fell on the Sheriff. "Jake, no!"

"Just let it be over!" Jake shouted. His face turned grey with fear as something grasped him under the water, his whole body jolted, and then he sank beneath the surface.

"Daddy!" Andrea screamed, her voice breaking with sobs.

Dean and Sam exchanged a look, and dived once more.

Jess wrapped Andrea in her arms more securely, her eyes darting over the water as though she could somehow pull Lucas back from the murky depths just by looking.

Sam reappeared and he shook his head grimly.

"No!" Andrea cried, her legs buckling, but at that moment, Dean broke the surface, Lucas's small form clutched in his arms.

Jess released Andrea in favour of dropping to her knees at the edge of the jetty, taking hold of Lucas's arm and pulling him up onto dry land.

"Lucas? Lucas, can you hear me?"

His head lolled, and she checked his vitals, glancing up at his frantic mother. "Call 911!"

Andrea nodded, fumbling with her phone as Sam and Dean heaved themselves out of the lake.

Jess began chest compressions, willing the boy to move, counting off in her head. As his mother hung up, the ambulance on its way, Lucas suddenly took a breath, coughing frantically.

Immediately stopping the compressions, Jess helped the boy roll to the side, water spilling from his mouth.

"Lucas!" Andrea gasped, scrambling to kneel beside her son, taking his face in her hands. "Oh, Lucas, are you alright?"

Lucas nodded, his small body shaking. Sam had run back to the house and returned with three towels, one of which Jess wrapped around the young boy, trying to warm and dry him at the same time. Slowly, his breathing calmed and the coughing became more sporadic.

As the sirens of an ambulance grew louder, Lucas looked up at his mother. "Mom …"

For the first word spoken in five months, it was hardly a surprising one.

But the adults crowded around him would all agree that no other word had ever sounded so wonderful.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: As ever, I don't own Supernatural! Sorry about the wait; my brain decided it wanted to start writing scenes from season 8/9. Which, in case you were wondering, I am hoping to get to.**

**Also, if you're interested, I now have a Supernatural themed blog (room for one moore . tumblr . com), which will have updates etc.**

* * *

It took at least a week for the high of saving Lucas's life to wear off.

Admittedly, the fact that they hadn't been able to save his grandfather was disheartening, but as Sam had said – they couldn't save everyone.

Besides, with no body, Dean admitted to Jess that there was nothing they could have done to stop Peter, other than give him what he wanted.

Now the high _was_ wearing off, though, the nightmares were starting to return.

Sam's, Jess knew, had never really stopped, so she didn't complain – at least she got a night or two in between of uninterrupted rest.

Last night had been one of the latter, much to Jess's relief, and she stretched lazily as consciousness began to creep over her.

A second later, she jolted awake fully as the door to the motel room opened. In the next bed, Dean jerked awake as well, his hand sliding under his pillow for the weapon she knew was stashed there.

"Morning!" Sam greeted cheerfully, kicking the door shut behind him. The scent of coffee followed him in, and Jess sat up to take one.

"What time is it?" Dean muttered, relaxing again.

"About five forty-five." Sam answered, handing Jess a Danish pastry as well.

"In the morning?!" Dean asked.

"Yep." Sam confirmed, looking vaguely amused.

While it was somewhat early, it was no earlier than Jess used to wake up at college in order to go running every morning, and she couldn't help but share Sam's amusement.

"Where does the day go?" Dean grumbled, sitting up. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours."

"Liar." Dean said matter-of-factly, grabbing his own coffee. "Cause I was up at three, and you were watching a George Foreman informercial."

"Hey, what can I say?" Sam asked innocently. "It's riveting TV."

"When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?" Jess asked softly.

"I don't know." Sam admitted. "A while, I guess. It's not a big deal."

"Yeah it is." Dean disagreed.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Look, I appreciate your concern …"

"Oh, I'm not concerned about you." Dean said dismissively. "It's your job to keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp."

Jess turned away to hide the fond smile that threatened to spread across her features. She was beginning to understand the dynamics of the brothers' relationship now, and the more she learned, the more oddly endearing it became.

"Are you still having nightmares about what happened to Mom?" She asked gently.

"Yeah." Sam sighed. "But it's not _just_ that. It's everything. I just forgot, you know? This job … it gets to you."

Jess nodded understandingly. The image of Constance Welch trying to rip her boyfriend's heart out was more or less seared into her mind now, along with her mother burning on the ceiling and Sheriff Devins being dragged to a watery grave.

"You can't let it." Dean advised. "You can't bring it home like that."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "So … all of this never keeps you up at night?"

Dean shook his head.

"Never?" Jess asked. "You're never afraid?"

Taking a gulp of coffee, Dean shrugged. "No, not really."

Sam and Jess exchanged a disbelieving glance, and the latter leaned over to pull a large hunting knife from under Dean's pillow.

"That's not fear." Dean said, grinning. "That's precaution."

Jess raised an eyebrow. "What's the grin for?"

"You're handling the knife right." Sam explained. "It's about as close as you'll get to 'I'm proud of you'."

"What?" Dean asked. "Took you a couple months to hold a knife properly."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I was a kid."

Dean's phone rang just then, forestalling a possible argument. He glanced at the screen and frowned questioningly. "Hello? Oh, right, yeah! Up in … Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing." He looked worried suddenly. "It's not back, is it?"

Sam and Jess watched, puzzled, as Dean relaxed again.

"What is it?" He listened intently for a second, then nodded. "We'll be there. We've got a job." He concluded, when he'd hung up.

"In Pennsylvania?" Jess guessed. "What is it?"

"No idea." Dean admitted. "Jerry says he wants to see us in person. Dad and I got rid of a poltergeist for him couple of years ago, so he knows what to look for."

Sam nodded. "Alright, I'll pack the car."

* * *

Maybe it was because it was one of her first hunts, but Jess didn't think that was why she was confused – it was clear from Sam and Dean's behaviour that they were as lost as she was.

As they left the late George Phelps' home, she let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Okay, so we have a plane that crashed, seven survivors, an EVP recording that claims 'no survivors', and a supposedly normal passenger pulling the emergency exit door open mid-flight. I mean … does any of this make sense?"

"None." Sam said grimly.

"A middle-aged dentist with an ulcer is not exactly evil personified." Dean agreed, frowning. "You know what we need to do is get inside that NTSB warehouse, check out the wreckage."

"Okay." Sam agreed. "But if we're gonna go that route, we'd better look the part."

A few hours later, the three strode into the warehouse, flashing their badges at the bored-looking security guard, who gave them a cursory glance and let them through into the main room.

As the door closed behind them, Jess shook her head, tucking her badge back into her jacket. "Awful, isn't it?"

"Terrible." Sam murmured, his gaze travelling over the burnt and twisted pieces of metal. They had been laid out in such a way that it was obvious what parts of the plane they had once been, but were it not for that helpful hint, she would never have known.

"What are we looking for?" Jess asked, as they began to wander through the wreckage.

"Anything out of the ordinary." Sam answered.

Jess rolled her eyes. "Thanks, because that narrows it down."

"You'll know when you see it." Dean said, donning a pair of headphones.

"What is that?" Sam asked, staring at the device in his brother's hands.

"It's an EMF meter." Dean answered. "Reads electromagnetic frequencies."

"Yeah, I know that's what an EMF meter is." Sam said, rolling his eyes. "But why does that one look like a busted up Walkman?"

"Cause that's what I made it out of." Dean said with a grin. "It's homemade."

"Yeah, I can see that." Sam muttered, causing his brother's grin to fall.

"How?" Jess asked, eyeing it.

"Well, I …" Dean began, before cutting himself off. "I'll tell you later. We've got work to do."

Jess nodded understandingly, and went back to examining the wreckage.

The device in Dean's hand, which had been buzzing with static, suddenly began making a strange high-pitched squeal.

"Is that the emergency door handle?" Jess asked in a whisper.

"Yeah, and it's covered in …" Dean frowned, rubbing a finger against the strange yellow residue. "Whatever this is."

"If you don't know what it is, you probably shouldn't have touched it." Jess pointed out. "How do we figure out what it is?"

"By taking it with us." Sam said, flipping open his pocket knife. Carefully, he scraped some of the residue into small bag and sealed it methodically, before tucking it inside his jacket.

A sudden crash somewhere behind the wreckage made Jess jump, and Sam suddenly covered her mouth with his hand.

"Stay calm." He murmured. "I think the real Homeland Security just showed up."

Dean jerked his head towards the back of the warehouse, and Sam and Jess followed him, Jess's heart thudding in her chest. She guessed the boys were used to potentially getting arrested, but she wasn't.

Dean and Sam led her around the back of the wreckage and back towards the door they had entered through.

Dean peered around the corner of the wreckage, nodded once, and gestured for the other two to follow his lead.

Calmly, as though they had every right to be there, they walked out into the lobby and out of the warehouse.

The second the door opened, an alarm began blaring, and Sam grabbed Jess's hand as they began sprinting towards the gate, Dean shedding his jacket as they ran.

When they reached the locked gate, he threw the jacket over the barbed wire and jumped up to swing himself over the fence.

Sam gave Jess a boost, and she followed suit, feeling a sort of satisfaction when Dean kept a close eye on her descent, but made no move to catch her, having faith that she could handle herself.

As soon as Sam landed beside Jess, Dean grabbed his jacket, and they took off towards the place they had hidden the Impala so its plates wouldn't be associated with them.

Dean grinned at them. "Guess the monkey suits do come in handy."

* * *

"I could have told you that was a bad idea." Jess said with a sigh, as Dean hung up the phone.

Dean scowled. "Why's that?"

"Because it's first flight Amanda's taking after she nearly died in a plane crash." Jess pointed out fairly. "You don't think she's going to talk to her sister?"

Once the strange yellow substance had been identified as sulphur, Dean and Sam had instantly announced they were dealing with demonic possession.

Unfortunately, neither of them had dealt with demons before, which made Jess very nervous.

When the pilot of the original plane had been killed in a second plane crash and Sam had noted that both planes had crashed after exactly forty minutes, finding six other flights that could well have also been targets, she had become even more nervous.

Because Flight 2485 had been the first flight to leave survivors, and one of those survivors had now also died, suggesting that the demon was planning on finishing the job.

The five surviving passengers had all sworn never to fly again for a very long time, if ever, and the only wildcard was Amanda Walker, the flight attendant, who was about to set sail, so to speak, once more.

"Time for Plan B, I guess." Sam said. "We're getting on that plane."

"Whoa, whoa," Dean shook his head. "Just hold on a second."

"Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board." Sam said firmly. "And if we're right, that plan is gonna crash."

"I know." Dean admitted quietly.

"Okay. So we're getting on that plane." Sam concluded. "We need to find that demon and exorcise it. I'll get the tickets; you two grab whatever you can from the trunk – whatever will make it through security," he added hastily. "Meet me back here in five minutes."

Jess nodded, but Dean looked pale.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

"Not really." Dean admitted.

"What?" Sam asked. "What's wrong?"

Dean swallowed hard. "Well, I kind of have this problem with, er …"

"Flying?" Jess finished.

"It's never been an issue until now!" Dean said defensively.

"You're joking, right?" Sam asked disbelievingly.

"Do I look like I'm joking?!" Dean hissed. "Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?"

Sam sighed. "Alright. I'll go."

"_We'll_ go." Jess corrected sternly.

"What?!" Dean demanded.

"You stay." Jess said. "We'll do this one on our own."

"Are you both nuts?!" Dean snapped. "That plane's gonna crash!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, we can all go, or Jess and I can go by ourselves. I'm not seeing a third option."

Dean groaned. "Dammit!"

"Are you humming Metallica?"

"It calms me down." Dean muttered tensely.

Sam sighed. "Look, man, I know you're nervous, alright? But you've got to stay focused. We've got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down, or whoever it's possessing, and perform a full-on exorcism …"

"In a crowded plane." Dean added. "That's gonna be easy."

Beside the window, Jess shook her head and squeezed Sam's hand. "Give us a minute?" She murmured.

Sam glanced at her, and nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Where do you think you're going?" Dean asked.

"Bathroom." Sam answered, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't realise I needed permission."

Dean scowled, muttering something under his breath, and Sam squeezed past him, clapping his shoulder as he did.

As soon as Sam was out of earshot, Jess unbuckled her own seatbelt and shifted across into Sam's seat. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." Dean said shortly.

"It's okay to be scared, you know." Jess said, her voice low and calm. "Everyone has a phobia of something."

"We don't." Dean snapped, before snapping his mouth shut and looking away from her.

"By we, do you mean hunters or Winchesters?" Jess asked knowingly. She was beginning to understand the dynamic between the boys and their father, and it wasn't one she was particularly enthusiastic about. "It makes sense, you know."

"How?!" Dean hissed, apparently in spite of himself. "I am a hunter, I have …"

"I know that." Jess interrupted, before he could say anything to potentially terrify the passengers in front of or behind them. She wasn't sure, but hearing a fellow passenger admit to killing things was likely to trouble even the most confident flier. "I know, Dean, but you have control in those situations. You can _do_ something. If something happens in the air, you can't do anything."

"Great, thanks Dr Phil." Dean growled. "Any idea how to stop it?!"

Jess took his hand, squeezing it gently. "Why does Metallica calm you down?"

"I don't know!" Dean's pulse was racing; she could feel it pressed against her own wrist.

"Think." Jess said softly. "Do you associate it with anything?"

Dean was quiet for a second. "Mom used to play it." He whispered.

"Okay, good." Jess murmured. She knew very little about Mary Winchester, as Sam couldn't remember her at all, and she knew that Dean never spoke about her, so she'd have to tread carefully with this one. "What was she like, your mother?"

"She was … She …" Dean seemed to struggle with himself, and she stroked the back of his hand with her thumb, gently prompting him to continue. "She was amazing. Sweet. Funny. She made the _best_ cherry pie. Used to play Metallica and Zeppelin and AC/DC while she cooked."

A smile spread across Jess's face as she listened. She wondered if Sam knew that was why Dean was so taken with heavy metal, then decided almost immediately that he didn't.

"She was an amazing cook." Dean continued, his pulse calming a little as he spoke. "We had these amazing pot roasts every Sunday … made me tomato-rice soup when I was sick, because that's what her mom used to make her. She used to sing Hey Jude instead of a lullaby, because it was her favourite Beatles song."

Jess raised an eyebrow. "Huh. That's my favourite too." She didn't get a response, but started humming it under her breath.

_Hey Jude,_

_Don't make it bad,_

"I know what you're trying to do." Dean said, with no heat in his voice.

_Take a sad song,_

_And make it better …_

"Is it working?"

_Find a way to let her into your heart_

"No."

_Then you can start to make it better._

His fingers contracted around hers. "But thanks."

* * *

"_Regina terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino … per caelum, caelum antiquos … glory Patri …_"

Jess's heart thudded as the Latin flowed from her lips, her hands gripping John Winchester's journal so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.

The original plan had been for Sam to read the invocation while Dean restrained the demon, but the possessed co-pilot was putting up quite a fight, and Sam had thrust the journal at her and dived in to help his brother.

They could only hope that Amanda trusted them and didn't immediately alert the air marshal that was probably on board.

Jess wasn't even sure her pronunciation was correct, but Sam had hastily assured her that it didn't matter too much, and from the increasingly frantic behaviour of the demon it seemed to be working.

Fighting the boys off momentarily, he managed to rip the tape from his mouth, grabbing Sam by the shirt. "I heard what happened! It's your fault you know!" He choked for a second, before black smoke poured out of his mouth and disappeared into one of the air vents.

"What was that?!" Jess demanded

"That was the demon." Sam answered, checking the co-pilot's pulse as the man slumped against him. "Stay here with him. We'll …"

The plane gave an almighty lurch, and they all stumbled as it tilted back towards Earth and picked up speed, the journal tumbling out of Jess's grasp and skidding down the aisle.

"I've got it!" Sam shouted over the screams of terror, darting after it.

Jess sunk to the ground, her stomach heaving with nausea as the speed increased, pinning her against the emergency exit door.

Dean's hand clamped down on her shoulder, pulling her closer, trying to protect those around him even faced with his own greatest fear.

Later, she would wonder if either Winchester had been raised with any sense of self-preservation, or if it was just Dean as the older brother, but right now, she could only squeeze her eyes tight and pray that Sam would get to the book in time.

It had always been her practice to pray to the Lord – the sudden discovery of demons and ghosts and everything else that went bump in the night hadn't dimmed that faith.

After all, there must be something that meant the name of the Lord was practically poison to a demon.

But now, as she clung to Dean, her life, and the life of every other passenger, in Sam's hands, a fiery demise just minutes away, looming ever closer, Jessica found herself praying to someone else – fully aware that 'the Lord works in mysterious ways', there had to be someone up there more invested in their survival.

_Mary, please, if you can hear me … if you can do anything … help your son. Help Sam. Please!_

Sam's voice rose above the chaos, the plane suddenly jerked upwards, Dean and Jess collapsed as the force pinning them against the metal suddenly disappeared.

"Are you okay?!" Dean demanded. "Jess, are you alright?"

"I think so." Jess gasped, her heart still pounding. "Is it … Is it over?" Sending a silent _thank you_ towards the sky, whether God or Mary Winchester or anyone else who might have been listening had done anything – she didn't care – she accepted Dean's help to her feet, and moved over to the co-pilot, checking his pulse. "He's alive."

"Yeah, it's over." Dean assured her. "It's over." He added, when Amanda stuck her head through the curtain, looking pale.

"Thank you." She whispered. "I'll go and tell the pilot he's been taken ill."

"I'll stay with him." Jess said. "I'm a trained nurse."

"Thank you, but we're all trained first-aiders." Amanda said. "And we need all passengers in their seats for the remainder of the journey."

"I understand." Jess agreed, following Dean and Amanda back through the curtain.

Dean sank back into his seat and closed his eyes. "I need a drink."

"Something tells me they're not bringing the drinks trolley round." Jess muttered, slipping past him to her own seat, falling sideways into Sam, who had tucked the journal away and was waiting for them. "Good timing."

Sam wrapped his arms around her. "Are you alright?"

"I think I just aged about ten years." Jess quipped weakly. "I'm alright, don't worry."

"Thank God." Sam murmured, kissing the side of her head.

"So …" Dean said, his eyes still shut. "Had enough of hunting yet?"

"Are you kidding?" Jess asked, keeping her voice low. "We just saved the lives of over a hundred people; I've got the best job in the world. But …"

"But?" Sam prompted.

Jess grimaced. "Next time, let's try to stop it on the ground, not forty thousand feet in the air."

"I second that." Dean said. "I am never getting on a plane again."

"Yes, you are." Sam told him, smirking. "We've got to get home again."

Dean groaned. "Son of a bitch!"


	8. Chapter 8

"Bloody Mary?"

Jess was fully aware that she had turned into a parrot of sorts, but she didn't much care. Following their stop at the county morgue in Toledo, Ohio, Jess had left the boys to speak to the family, while she dropped their stuff off at a motel and started looking through the journal to see if John had encountered anything that made people's eyes bleed out.

Finally, with no luck, Sam had called her and asked her to meet them at the library, where they told her that Shoemaker had been found in front of the bathroom mirror, and his youngest daughter, Lily, had admitted to 'summoning' Bloody Mary that night at a sleepover.

"You're telling me Blood Mary is real?"

"That's just it." Sam admitted. "We don't know."

Jess shook her head. "There's no way. I did it when I was a kid, and no one bit it. Besides, doesn't the legend say that she kills whoever summons her?"

"But the guy _did_ die in front of the mirror, and according to the legend, she scratches your eyes out." Dean pointed out. "All legends come from somewhere – there's got to be some sort of proof, local woman who died nasty, that sort of thing."

"But with a legend this widespread it's hard." Sam pointed out. "I mean, there's like fifty versions of who she actually is – a witch, mutilated bride …"

"Queen of England." Jess put in.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I don't know if it's the same as the legend," Jess admitted, "but Queen Mary I of England was nicknamed Bloody Mary, because she had 280 people burned at the stake for being Protestants during five years of reign, whereas her sister, Elizabeth, had, I think, 30 Catholics executed after she was excommunicated, and she ruled for 44 years."

"And how did she die?" Sam asked cautiously.

Jess shrugged. "Illness, I think. We can probably rule her out."

"So what are we actually looking for?" Dean asked.

"Well, every legend has a few things in common." Sam said. "It's always a woman named Mary, who died in front of a mirror. So we search local newspapers for anyone who might fit the bill, far back as we can."

"Well, that sounds annoying." Dean muttered.

"It won't be that bad." Sam insisted, just as they reached the computers. All of them had large 'Out of Order' signs hanging on them. "I take it back."

"Maybe we're better off going back to the motel." Jess suggested. "Sam and I both have laptops, and we can get some of the local history books out and go through them."

* * *

They worked through the night with no luck. Neither Dean nor Jess said anything when Sam drifted off to sleep, but Dean set the book to one side and continued on Sam's laptop.

As the sun began to creep across the motel room floor, Sam jolted awake with a gasp. "Why'd you let me fall asleep?"

"Cause I'm an awesome brother." Dean answered absently. "What did you dream about?"

"Lollipops and candy canes." Sam muttered, closing his eyes again.

Jess set her laptop to one side and settled down beside him, resting her head on his chest. "Yeah right."

"'M fine." He murmured, his arm lifting to encircle her shoulders. "You find anything?"

"Besides a whole new level of frustration?" Dean asked. "No. We looked through everything. A Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but no Marys."

"I looked through strange deaths in the area as well." Jess added. "Eyeball bleeding, that sort of thing. There's nothing. Maybe it's not Bloody Mary. Maybe it is just a very back stroke."

Sam's phone rang on the nightstand, and Jess reached across to answer it, when it became clear Sam wasn't going to move. "Hello?"

There was a sniff on the other end. _"Is this Sam's phone?"_

"Yes, this is his girlfriend." Jess frowned slightly. "Who's this? Are you alright?"

_"M-my name's Charlie." _The girl said, her voice shaking with tears. _"We met at D-Donna's house and … h-he said t-to call if s-something h-happened."_

"What's wrong?" Jess asked.

_"It's my friend, Jill." _A sob broke across the line, and it took Charlie a second to get herself back under control. _"She's d-d-dead … I think it was h-her …"_

"Alright, Charlie, where are you?" Jess asked, sitting up and nudging Sam.

_"The p-park. I ran out when Mom told me."_

"Sam and Dean will meet you there." Jess told her. "Don't move."

"Who are we meeting?" Dean asked, as Jess hung up.

"Donna Shoemaker's friend Charlie." Jess answered. "Her friend, Jill, is dead and Charlie thinks it's Bloody Mary."

Dean stood immediately. "Alright. We'll go and talk to her. In the meantime, Jess, widen the search. Forget the local area, just see if you can find _any_ Mary that fits, and then see if you can find a connection to Toledo."

* * *

It turned out there were a lot of Marys who had died in potentially suspicious circumstances.

Jess had both laptops running, moving slowly backwards through time, but so far none had involved a mirror and a connection to Toledo.

A handful had one or the other, but not both.

_1983. Mary Carter, Ohio, mugging, January 8__th__. Mary Hanson, Alaska, intruder, May 10__th__. _Jess paused in reaching for her coffee. "I guess I should have seen that one coming." She murmured.

_Mary Winchester. Suspicious house-fire. November 2__nd__. _

Exactly twenty-two years before her own mother had died in exactly the same way.

A note underneath stated that the case was closed, and that the cause of the fire was faulty wiring.

The same excuse the fire department had come up with for Emily's death.

Another note added that Mary's sons were potentially in an at-risk category, and Jess hastily moved on to the next Mary, not wanting to dwell too long on Sam and Dean's childhoods.

Her phone rang, providing a happy distraction, and she answered it, finally retrieving her coffee at the same time. "What's up, Sam?"

_"Found anything?"_

"Nothing so far." Jess answered, mostly truthfully. She didn't want to bring up their mother with no due reason. "You?"

_"Lit up the bathroom with a black-light." _Sam told her. _"Found a handprint on the back of the mirror, along with the name Gary Bryman."_

"Hang on." Jess opened a new search engine and typed in the name, opening the news story that appeared. "Okay, Gary Bryman was an eight-year-old boy killed two years ago in a hit-and-run. Car was described as a black Toyota Camry, but no one got the plates or saw the driver."

_"Got it. Thanks, Jess. We're gonna head over to the Shoemaker house, see if Mary left another calling card. Love you."_

"Love you too." Jess hung up the phone, her mind racing. From what she could tell, there was no connection between Jill and Gary Bryman.

"The only possible connection would be if she was driving the car." She murmured to herself, clicking through the next few Marys. "So maybe …"

Her train of thought came to a screeching halt as the name _Mary Worthington_ flashed up on the screen.

_Unsolved murder … Fort Wayne, Indiana … eyes cut out._

Her heart thudding, Jess typed the name Mary Worthington into the search engine and opened the first page, finding a photograph of a mirror with a handprint and the letters _T-R-E _smeared in blood across the glass.

She grabbed her phone and called Sam back. "I've found her! Bloody Mary, her name was Mary Worthington …"

_"Slow down, Jess." _Sam said, and she heard the car door slam. _"We're on our way back. Charlie convinced Donna Shoemaker to let us have a look at the mirror; same handprint on the back and the name Linda Shoemaker."_

"Donna's mother?" Jess guessed, temporarily side-tracked.

_"Yeah, accidentally overdosed on sleeping pills." _Sam confirmed. _"Our guess is that Mary gets summoned and latches on to the nearest person with a nasty death-related secret. Jill killed a kid in a hit-and-run, Mr Shoemaker killed his wife."_

"Not necessarily." Jess said. "All the folk-lore surrounding mirrors – they reveal all your lies, your secrets, true reflection of your soul and so on – maybe you don't have to be responsible for the death. Maybe just feeling guilty and blaming yourself is enough."

_"Tell us about Mary."_ Sam requested.

"Mary Worthington, died 1982 after having her eyes cut out." Jess answered. "She was found in front of an antique mirror, and there was a handprint and the letters T-R-E written on the glass. My guess is that she was trying to write the name of her killer, but died before she could, because the case was unsolved."

_"Unsolved murder is a good basis for a restless spirit." _Sam commented. _"Connection to Toledo?"_

"None that I can find." Jess admitted. "She was killed in Fort Wayne, Indiana."

* * *

"I was on the job for 35 years, detective for most of that." Former Detective Steve McArthur said heavily. "Everyone packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder … that one still gets me."

"What exactly happened?" Dean asked.

McArthur seemed to pause in his reflection to eye them suspiciously. "You said you were reporters?"

"We know Mary was 19, lived by herself." Jess said quickly. "We know she won a few local beauty contests , dreamt of getting out of Indiana, becoming an actress. And we know the night of March 29th, someone broke into her apartment and murdered her, cut her eyes out with a knife."

"That's right." McArthur confirmed, his eyes turning heavy once more.

"See, sir, when we ask you want happened, we wanted to know what _you_ think happened." Sam said gently.

McArthur looked at all three of them for a long minute, before heaving himself out of his chair and crossing the room to a filing cabinet.

"Technically, I'm not supposed to have a copy of this." He admitted, rifling through it and withdrawing a file. He opened it and the three drew closer to see that photograph Jess had found. "Now see that there? T-R-E? I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer."

Jess hid the satisfied smile that threatened her composure. "You know who it was?"

"Not for sure, but there was a local man – a surgeon. Trevor Sampson." McArthur explained, showing them another picture. "And I think he cut her up good."

"Why would he do something like that?" Sam asked, studying the man.

"Her diary mentioned a man she was seeing." McArthur said. "She called him by his initial – T. Well, her last entry, she was gonna tell T's wife about the affair."

"Yeah, but how do you know it was Sampson who killed her?" Dean asked.

"It's hard to say," McArthur admitted, "but the way her eyes were cut out … it was almost professional."

"But you could never prove it?" Jess guessed.

"No." McArthur said with a sigh. "No prints. No witnesses. He was meticulous."

"Is he still alive?" Dean asked hopefully.

"Nope." McArthur said, sitting down with another heavy sigh. "If you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy's secret. But she never could."

"Where's she buried?" Sam asked, in a would-be casual voice.

McArthur shook her head. "She wasn't. She was cremated."

Jess shot the two boys a questioning look, and Dean looked thoughtful. "What about the mirror? It's not in some evidence lock-up somewhere, is it?"

If McArthur found something strange about this query, he didn't show it. Maybe his mind was back in 1982, in Mary's tiny apartment, looking down at her broken body, blood smeared across her beautiful features. "No, it was returned to Mary's family a long time ago."

Sam nodded. "You have the names of her family by any chance?"

Twenty minutes later, they were speeding back to Toledo, while Sam pretended to be an antiques dealer to get his hands on the mirror Mary had died in front of.

From the look on his face, it wasn't a successful call.

"That's too bad, Mr Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror." Sam was saying ruefully. "Okay, well maybe next time. Alright, thanks." He hung up with a frustrated sigh.

"So?" Jess prompted.

"That was Mary's brother." Sam answered. "The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago, to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo."

"So wherever the mirror goes, Mary goes?" Dean concluded.

"Her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow." Sam confirmed.

Dean frowned. "Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?"

"Yeah, there is." Sam answered slowly. "Yeah, when someone would die in a house, people would cover up the mirrors so the ghost wouldn't get trapped."

"So Mary dies in front of a mirror and it draws in her spirit?" Jess asked. "How could she move through the others?"

"I don't know." Dean admitted. "But if that mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it."

"Maybe." Sam said, fishing his phone out of his pocket again as it rang. "Hello." He stiffened. "Charlie?"

* * *

Once they had settled Charlie in their motel room, with every possible reflective surface covered, Jess, Sam and Dean headed straight for the antique store.

After Donna Shoemaker had 'summoned' Bloody Mary to prove to Charlie that Dean and Sam were insane, the girl had begun to see her, and spilled her secret to Jess and the boys before they left.

"You know, her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie's fault." Dean said after a while.

"Maybe it's like Jess said." Sam responded. "You know spirits don't exactly see shades of grey, Dean. Charlie had a secret, someone died, that's good enough for Mary."

"I guess." Dean muttered.

"You know, I've been thinking." Sam said. "It might not be enough to just smash that mirror."

"Why?" Jess asked.

"Well, Mary's hard to pin down." Sam pointed out. "She moves around from mirror to mirror, so who's to say she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever?"

"Maybe we should try to pin her down." Jess suggested. "Summon her to the mirror and then smash it."

"Well, how do you know that's gonna work?" Dean asked.

"I don't." Jess admitted. "Not for sure."

"Who's gonna summon her?" Sam asked.

Jess took a deep breath. "I will. She'll come after me."

"Dean." Sam said sharply, and his brother heeded the unspoken demand, pulling over at the side of the road so both men could twist around to look at her.

"I'll do it." Sam continued. "Not you."

Jess shook her head. "That won't work, Sam."

"Why not?!" Sam asked.

Dean groaned. "Dude, what happened to Jess's mom was not your fault! You wanna blame something, blame the thing that killed her! Hell, take a swing at me; I'm the one who dragged you out in the first place!"

Jess reached out to touch Dean's arm. "I don't blame you, Dean, or you, Sam. And this isn't a secret, Sam. We know all about it. _All _about it." She repeated, giving Sam a meaningful look. She wasn't sure if he had told Dean about the dreams, but her gut said he hadn't.

"Well, what's your dirty little secret?" Dean asked.

Jess gave him a tight smile. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret, would it?"

"No." Sam said immediately. "I don't like it."

"Me neither." Dean agreed. "Not happening, kiddo."

Jess rolled her eyes. "Guys, that girl is going to _die_ if we don't do something. And who knows how many people will die after that?! I have to do it. You've got to let me do this."

* * *

"Bloody Mary." Jess said firmly. "Bloody Mary." She swallowed, feeling Sam's hand tight on her shoulder. "Bloody Mary."

A light came on outside the store, and Dean stepped away from them. "I'll go check that out. Stay here, be careful. Smash anything that moves."

Sam and Jess stood side by side in front of Mary's mirror, each clutching a crowbar. A commotion outside caused Jess to glance towards the front of the store. "We must have tripped an alarm." She whispered. "Go and help him."

"But …"

"_Go!"_ Jess repeated. "It's not good if we get arrested before we can do anything."

"Be safe." Sam whispered, kissing her forehead and hurrying towards the door. It swung closed, just as Jess caught sight of Mary in one of the other mirrors.

She swung the crowbar towards it, shattering the glass, but Mary appeared in another mirror, so Jess smashed that one too.

"Come on." She whispered, facing the original mirror. "Come into this one."

Her reflection smiled coldly at her, and Jess felt something constrict her throat, something warm and wet trickling down her cheek.

"It's your fault." Her reflection said. "You killed him. You killed your own father."

The crowbar in her hand fell uselessly to the ground as her hand clutched her chest, gasping for air.

"How many times had he told you to be quiet so he could concentrate?" Her reflection continued as she fell to the ground, her vision becoming bloody. "It was dark, the roads were icy – he needed to focus. But you had to keep talking, didn't you? Couldn't stand not to be the centre of Daddy's attention anymore."

The mirror shattered as Dean's crowbar collided with it, and strong arms pulled her to her feet.

"Jess? Jessie?!" Sam called frantically. "Talk to me, baby, please!"

"Sam!" Jess gasped out, the grip on her throat disappearing. "I'm okay …"

A sudden presence appeared at her other side, and she flinched, before a hand gently wiped the worst of the blood from her eyes, and she blinked the rest of it away to see that it was Dean. "Hey."

"We just knocked out two cops." Dean said by way of greeting. "We need to get out of here."

"Right." Sam agreed quickly, wrapping an arm around Jess's waist to help her out.

As they moved towards the exit, something moved across the broken glass behind them, and ice crept over Jess's skin as they slowly turned to see what it was.

Mary Worthington had somehow extracted herself from her mirror and was stumbling towards them.

As they looked upon her, Dean and Sam crumpled, their eyes beginning to weep blood, and Jess fell with them as her lungs began to fail her again, her hand helplessly scrambling for something – anything – to block the sight of her.

If they could just stop looking at her, maybe they would be alright.

Her hand hit the edge of another mirror and she lifted it in front of their faces.

The terrible tightness on her chest loosened and she sucked in air hastily, wiping her eyes with her free hand.

_"You killed them!" _A woman's voice hissed. _"You killed those people!"_

Intrigued, Jess peered out from behind the mirror to see that Mary had stopped, staring at her reflection in horror.

Her own eyes were beginning to bleed, and her mouth opened in a silent scream, before she seemed to melt and shatter all at once, turning to blood that solidified and joined the shards of glass littering the floor.

"Smash it." Dean croaked, and Jess let the mirror in her hands fall, watching it break into pieces. "You both okay?"

"I think so." Sam answered, helping Jess to her feet. "Are you okay to drive?"

"Yeah, I've got it." Dean assured him, as they stumbled out of the shop, stepping over the unconscious security guards.

"Think they took down the licence plate?" Jess asked, as she and Sam climbed into the back seat.

"Won't matter." Dean said, swinging into the driver's seat. "Baby's not registered."

"Baby?" Jess repeated.

"Don't ask." Sam advised, as Dean pulled away from the antique store. "You want to tell us about that secret now?"

Jess smiled weakly. "It's not much of a secret to be honest. You know my dad died in a car accident when I was sick. What you don't know is that I was in the back seat. I was a complete Daddy's girl and he worked a lot, so I had to make the most of the time I had with him. It was late January, it was dark, and the roads were really icy. He'd been telling me for nearly ten minutes to be quiet so he could focus on the road, but I just kept talking and …"

"Black ice." Dean finished, looking at her in the rear view mirror. "That's not your fault, Jess. No amount of silence or focus can let you avoid it."

"I know." Jess admitted. "Doesn't stop me from feeling guilty though."

"Nice job with the mirror, by the way." Dean said, possibly sensing her wish to change the subject.

"It was kind of an accident." Jess said sheepishly. "I just wanted to block her from view."

Sam snorted. "Well, do us a favour, Jess, and have more accidents like that."

"What I don't understand is why you two went down." Jess continued. "I mean, did she stop worrying about secrets and just focus on guilt?"

"Maybe." Sam conceded. "Maybe not. Dean and I weren't encouraged to talk about what happened on hunts. There were a couple of hairy moments out there."

"Maybe for you." Dean muttered.

Sam gave the back of Dean's head a tired look. "You know as well as I do, that there were some hunts where Dad had picked up activity, but there didn't seem to be any victims."

"There would have been sooner or later." Dean said stiffly.

"You believe that as much as I do." Sam said softly. "You'd just never question Dad's judgement."

"Here and now is hardly the time and place for this discussion." Jess said hastily, before Dean could retort. "Whatever happened, it's in the past; don't fight over it."

"She's right." Dean said after a few minutes, his eyes meeting Sam's in the mirror. "It's all in the past. You don't cry after hunts anymore for one."

"I caught you once or twice, you know." Sam refuted.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Jess closed her eyes with a smile. The argument may have seemed to continue, but she knew her boys.

They were going to be okay.

* * *

**AN: My numbers may be off with the whole Mary/Elizabeth history story. Alright, kids, question time. Sam's nickname for Jess is Jessie, and it's one only he can get away with. Dean's nickname for Sam is Sammy, and it's one only HE can get away with. So what nickname can Dean have for Jess? He's called her Sweetheart and Princess so far, but I don't want it to be either of those, simply because I can see Dean using Sweetheart generically and ... Well, I have plans for Princess, and I want it to be a Dean-only nickname, one that annoys her to begin with but just becomes a token of their relationship - like Dean and Sammy. Answers in reviews please!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural. I do own the attorneys, the Carters, and anything you don't recognise. Also thanks to Nadia for beta-ing for me!**

* * *

It was a month after they had left Toledo behind that Sam read the email.

They had pulled in at a gas station, and Dean was mapping out their next moves, Jess chiming in with ideas, when Sam suddenly cursed.

"What's wrong?" Jess asked, immediately concerned.

"Zach's been arrested for murder." Sam answered, staring at his palm pilot.

"Zach?!" Jess repeated. "Zach _Warren_?! _Our_ Zach?! No way!"

"Whoa, back up!" Dean requested. "What are you talking about?"

"I was just checking emails from my old friends at Stanford …" Sam began.

"Hold up." Dean interrupted. "You keep in touch with them?"

"Why not?" Jess asked. "I do as well."

"Yeah? And where do they think you are right now?" Dean asked.

"Road trip." Jess answered promptly. "I had a crisis of identity after Mom died, and Sam and I hit the road."

"Oh, so you lie to them." Dean concluded.

"I don't tell them everything." Jess corrected.

"Lying." Dean repeated. "I mean, I get it; can't tell them the truth."

Jess rolled her eyes. "No shit, Sherlock. We went to college with Zach and his sister Becky. I'm assuming it was Becky who emailed you?"

Sam nodded. "She says he was arrested for killing his girlfriend."

"No way." Jess said again. "Zach's not a _murderer_, Sam; there must be something …"

"She says the police have a really good case." Sam turned to Dean. "They're in St Louis. We're going."

Dean sighed. "Look, I'm sorry about your buddy, guys, but St Louis is four hundred miles behind us! And it's hardly our sort of problem."

"It is our problem." Sam refuted. "They're our friends."

Before Dean could argue, Jess's phone rang and she waved her hand, gesturing for them to be quiet so she could answer it. "Hello?"

_"Is this Miss Jessica Moore?"_

"It is." Jess answered. "Who's this?"

_"This is Robert Carter from Carter, Williamson and Howe Solicitors. We need to speak with you about your mother's estate."_

"My mother died four months ago." Jess said shakily. "She didn't have a Will …"

_"There are certain things we've had to wait for, insurance paperwork and so on. She filed one with us four years ago on the date of September 15__th__ 2001."_

"Just after I left for Stanford." Jess whispered. She cleared her throat. "Is there something wrong?"

_"Not at all, we just need you to come to our office, dot some I's, cross some t's, sign the paperwork, and so on."_

"Could you hold for a second?" Jess asked.

_"Certainly, ma'am."_

Covering the mouthpiece, Jess let out a sigh. "Apparently, my mother's attorneys need to see me."

"Who are they?" Sam asked.

"Carter, Williamson and Howe; they're based in Chicago." Jess answered tiredly.

"Alright, we're on our way." Dean said.

"No." Jess said, as he moved to start the car. "Drop me off, and then you two carry on to St Louis. Becky needs the support far more than I do."

* * *

It felt strange, walking into the attorneys' office alone, but Jess didn't regret her decision, especially given the text she had just received. Once the boys had dropped her off, she had hired a car and checked into a motel, before setting about finding the office, which took about two and a half hours.

For anyone else, it would have taken another hour to reach St Louis, but Dean was not anyone else.

And according to Sam, Zach was apparently in two places at once when his girlfriend died.

So much for it 'not being their thing'.

"Can I help you?" The bored-looking receptionist asked.

"My name is Jessica Moore, I have an appointment with Mr Carter."

"Take a seat."

Jess perched on one of the seats in the small foyer, wishing she was wearing something nicer than jeans, but she just couldn't afford it.

She didn't feel comfortable using fake credit cards unless she had to or it was for a case, and she had lost most of her clothes in the fire.

"Miss Moore?"

Robert Carter was stick thin, with a very firm handshake. "Come through to my office. I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." Jess murmured automatically. "Why has it taken three months for all this to get sorted out?"

Carter sighed, settling behind his desk. "Well, there was a bit of a contest, you see …"

"The Will was contested and you didn't inform me?!" Jess demanded.

Carter gave her a small smile. "Had it seemed to be going to court, we would, of course, have informed you, but the contest came from a half-sister of your mother."

Jess relaxed slightly. "I didn't know my mother had a half-sister."

"Neither did she, hence why Miss Barker wasn't in the Will." Carter explained. "She was the daughter of your mother's father, your grandfather, but had never actually met him."

Jess frowned. "But why would she contest the Will? For that matter, why would Mom even _make _a Will, she had nothing to leave."

Carter gave her a curious look. "Do you know what your grandfather did?"

"No, he died before I was born." Jess answered. "And Mom never spoke about him."

"He owned a very lucrative accounting company." Carter informed her. "And made quite a lot of money. Your mother was his sole beneficiary, but she never spent it, because she was earning herself. So now that money goes to you."

For a few seconds, Jess sat in silence, her head spinning.

The first instinct, she supposed, was to jump on the money and spend it, but she had been raised to be frugal with what she had, and it seemed silly to do that.

"I assume it's gaining interest at the moment?" She asked, her voice just barely staying calm.

"It is." Carter confirmed, just as his phone rang.

"I'd answer that." Jess said. "It might be important, and I'm not going to be able to form sensible sentences for a while."

"You did quite well there." He said with a smile, picking up the phone. "Carter, Williamson and Howe; Carter speaking. Honey, I'm working; you can't just … Look, we've been through this, Janet; Katie needs to … What was that? The line's terrible, are you … What?!"

Jess jumped at the sudden exclamation, shocked out of her … well, shock by Robert Carter jumping to his feet.

"Honey, get Katie out of the house; go to your sister's! I'll call … someone." Carter hung up the phone, and buried his face in his hands.

"Are you alright, Mr Carter?" Jess asked.

"No." Carter sighed. "But that's beside the point. I'm afraid I'll have to reschedule, Miss Moore, I seem to have a vanishing man living in my house."

"Like a ghost?" Jess asked.

"Of course not." Carter scoffed. "There's no such thing as ghosts."

"But if there _were_," Jess pressed, "is that how you'd describe it?"

Carter faltered. "Well … yes, actually." He looked down at the information in front of him. "It says here you were a nursing student?"

"And we can't believe in ghosts?" Jess asked sweetly. "As it happens, Mr Carter, I might be able to help you, if you'll let me."

Carter sighed. "I don't know …"

"Come on." Jess said coaxingly. "I don't charge. What have you got to lose? It'll give me time to get my head around this inheritance stuff."

Carter hesitated for only a moment more. "What the hell. I can hardly call the police and tell them."

"When did this man appear?" Jess asked.

"Well, I've never seen him." Carter admitted. "My daughter, Katie, has. She's eight. We moved in about … five months ago, and within a week, she called down late one night to say there was a man in her room. Obviously, my wife and I came running, but there was no one there. The windows were shut, the doors were bolted, and Katie kept pointing at thin air and saying there was a man there."

"You assumed she had an imaginary friend." Jess said.

Carter nodded. "Exactly. I thought we should just let her get it out of her system, but that was my wife calling … Janet said she saw the man as well, covered in blood."

"You said that the phone connection was bad?" Jess asked.

"Yes, it's been fuzzy since we moved in." Carter confirmed. "I've called the phone company a number of times, but they insist there's nothing wrong."

"Have you noticed anything else unusual?" Jess asked. "Flickering lights, radios or televisions not working, things moving?"

"The first two, yes." Carter nodded. "Nothing's moved. Not that I've noticed anyway. But it's an old house …"

"How old?" Jess asked.

"About ninety years." Carter answered.

"All original fittings?" Jess checked.

"Yes, why?"

Jess shrugged. "Just putting pieces together. What do you know about the history of the house? Previous owners and such?"

"Not much." Carter admitted. "It had been abandoned for about twenty years when we bought it. We just got someone in to check it was habitable, we didn't research the owners."

Jess nodded understandingly. "May I take a look at it?"

* * *

Jess pulled up behind Robert's car, and got out of her rental, immediately assessing the house. It definitely _looked_ old, but not rundown in the way Constance's house had done.

_But then, no one lived there anymore._

On the way over, she had toyed with the idea of calling Sam and Dean, but it seemed as though they had a larger mystery on their hands – she, at least, knew vaguely what she was dealing with, and just taking a look couldn't hurt.

She only wished she had more resources with her, but, as she rounded the rental to search the bag Dean had handed her and that she'd slung in the trunk, she discovered she had more than she thought.

_"Keep this with you at all times," _he'd said, and she was grateful she'd listened.

Inside was a fake ID, a gun, a flip-knife, and – more importantly right now – some salt and another EMF meter. It wasn't the one Dean had used in the warehouse to check the plane wreckage, but it looked just as homemade, and she had no doubt it worked just well.

Tucking the knife and packet of salt in her pocket and wrapping the earphones for the EMF reader around her hand, Jess zipped up the bag and closed the trunk to see that Robert was standing on his front lawn, speaking to a woman she assumed was his wife, and a young girl, who was clinging to her mother, looking very upset.

"It was probably my imagination, Robert!" The woman was saying as Jessica approached. "You hardly needed to tell the whole city."

"That's alright, ma'am." Jess said, sliding into the conversation. "It's only me."

"I'm telling you, I imagined it!" She said crossly. "I've been stuck in that damn house for too long, that's all!"

Robert folded his arms. "You sounded pretty certain on the phone, Janet. This is one of my clients, Jessica Moore. She was with me when you called, and she thinks she can help us."

"And how much is she charging for this 'help'?!" Janet Carter demanded, rounding on Jess.

"Nothing." Jess answered with a raised eyebrow. "Look, either I can help you, or I'm about to make an utter fool of myself, what have _you_ got to lose?"

"She's got a point, Janet." Robert said soothingly. "Let's just let her take a look, alright?"

The little girl – Katie – stepped away from her mother and tugged Jess's jacket. "Are you going to tell the man to go away?"

"I'm going to try." Jess said kindly. "Can you show me where you first saw him?"

Katie looked at her mother, who sighed, but nodded, and took Jess's hand. "He was in my room."

Katie led Jess – and her parents – up to the second floor of the house, to a fairly large room, painted in bright yellow.

"You've got a lovely room, Katie." Jess said, as she unwrapped the earphones. "I'm guessing your favourite colour's blue, right?"

Katie giggled. "No! It's yellow!"

"Yellow?" Jess repeated, looking around. "Really?" She popped the earphones in and turned on the EMF meter.

"What does that do?" Robert asked.

"It checks for electromagnetic frequencies." Jess explained. "There's always some, but around paranormal activity, it tends to spike. Where was the man, Katie?"

"Over there by the closet." Katie whispered, her previous amusement vanishing.

Already, Jess could see the meter reacting, but as she approached the closet, it began squealing, and she pulled the earphones out. "Yeah, there's _something_ here."

"What can we do?" Robert asked shakily.

"Right this second? Nothing." Jess admitted. "We need to figure out who it is and what it wants. Has he appeared anywhere else in the house?"

"No." Janet answered, her face white as snow. "When I saw him, he was standing right where you are now, covered in blood. I thought ghosts were supposed to be transparent, or white and smoky, or …"

"Some probably are." Jess conceded, opening the closet. "I haven't encountered very many. All the ghosts I've seen could have been alive … well, aside from the lake." She shuddered. "That was creepy. Have you made any alterations to this room?"

"No." Robert answered, stroking his daughter's hair. "We painted it, that's all."

"What about the closet?" Jess asked.

Robert shook his head. "We thought about it, but it just seemed like extra work; we'd have to get all of her clothes out and then leave them out so the paint could dry, and …"

"Yeah, I get it." Jess said with a nod, stepping back to observe the closet.

Something didn't seem right. The closet was built in to the room, sticking out slightly and stopping the room from being a perfect square, but the closet was deeper than it appeared.

That in itself wasn't strange – the room had been built with an alcove, and the closet built over it.

What was bugging Jess was that the wall the closet was on was the external wall of the house, and judging from the position of the window and what she could remember from the front of the house, the closet wasn't deep _enough_.

A sudden gasp behind her made her whirl around to see that their mysterious spirit had returned.

He was a head taller than her, late thirties, with dark hair that made his gaunt face look even paler. His clothes were about twenty years out of style and he was staring at her wordlessly.

Jess took a step away from the closet and he took a step towards her, pointing towards the small space.

"In there?" Jess asked. "Is there something in there?"

The spirit said nothing, continuing to point.

Jess sighed. "Alright, ghost of Christmas Yet To Be. I'm going to need a bit of help on this one, because I am _not_ a mind-reader. Or a ghost-whisperer."

Pointing.

With another sigh, Jess turned back to the closet. "Alright, I'm just going to go with this." Carefully sliding Katie's clothes to one side, she examined the back wall, running a hand over it.

A whimper caught her attention, and she turned back to see that the spirit was moving towards the Carters.

"Hey!" She said sharply. "I'm trying to help you; leave them alone."

The spirit looked at her, and disappeared.

Jess rolled her eyes. "Great."

Robert suddenly gasped for air, dropping to the floor. "They killed me!" He rasped.

"Robert!" Janet cried, reaching for him.

Jess darted forwards, catching her arm. "That's not Robert right now." She whispered. "Whoever that spirit is, it's possessing him."

"Is that normal?" Janet asked frantically.

"I have no idea." Jess admitted. "Do you have anything iron in the house?"

"Iron?" Janet repeated. "We have an old fireplace with a poker."

"Go and get it." Jess told her. "Take Katie with you."

Robert grabbed her arm with a frighteningly tight grip. "My name is Charles Arthur."

"Alright, Charles." Jess said soothingly, trying to extract herself. "My name's Jessica. I could have played Charades, you didn't have to possess him."

"They killed me!"

"Yes, I know." Jess said calmly. "Who's they?"

"My friends." Robert's face creased in confusion. "Why would they do that to me?"

"I don't know." Jess said, hearing Janet's footsteps hurrying along the corridor. "What's in the closet, Charles?"

"Me. It's my house."

"Alright, well, I'm sorry about this, Charles." Jess said, glancing at the closet. "I'll find you, I promise. But possessing people isn't very nice." She took the poker from Janet and pushed it into Robert's hand, causing him to exhale sharply.

"What was that?" He asked shakily, releasing Jess's arm.

"That was Charles Arthur possessing you." Jess answered. "Mrs Carter, go downstairs and stay with Katie. Mr Carter, I'll need your help."

"With what?" Robert asked, ushering his terrified wife towards the door.

"Charles Arthur was murdered in this house." Jess said softly, beginning to remove Katie's clothes from her closet and laying them on the bed. "And somewhere in this closet are his remains."

"Are you telling me there's a body in this house?" Robert asked sharply. "I need to call the police."

"Might want to find it first." Jess advised, running a hand across the wall at the back of the closet. There was a small indentation behind the wallpaper that made her think there was a door there. "Unless you want to tell them the ghost said there was a body there."

"Who killed him?" Robert asked. "Did he say?"

"Not exactly." Jess admitted. "I get the feeling he wasn't very … with it, mentally. Either he lived here or his so-called friends did, and they killed him and stashed the body in here."

"Why would anyone do that?" Robert asked, his voice catching, and she glanced back to see that Charles had reappeared, looking very put-out.

"I'm sorry, Charles." She said gently. "Hold on to that poker, Mr Carter. Ghosts don't like iron. And help me pull down this wallpaper."

"Guess we're repapering after all." Robert muttered, squeezing into the closet with her.

Together, they pulled the paper from the wall, revealing a door. There was no handle, just a hole where it had once been, which had been blocked up.

"Okay, back up." Jess said, pulling the knife from her pocket and flipping it open.

"How do you know about all these things?" Robert asked, stepping out of the closet, but keeping one eye on the spirit.

"My boyfriend and his brother have some interesting … hobbies." Jess said, half-truthfully. It wasn't anything like a hobby, more of a lifestyle, but there was only so much anyone else would understand. She slid the blade between the wall and the door, sliding it up and down to loosen it, before carefully prying the door open.

A horrible smell washed over her, and she recoiled, slamming it shut and running to open the window. "Might want to have Katie sleep in your room tonight."

"That's it, I'm calling the police." Robert announced, pulling his phone from his pocket.

"Yeah, well, let me leave first." Jess said, covering her mouth with her sleeve and tentatively approaching the door again.

"Leave?" Robert repeated. "You found the body."

Jess sighed. "Yes, and I know that normally that would be cause to talk to the police, but how exactly are you going to explain me being here?

"Well, you see, officer, a ghost has been haunting us so I asked one of my clients to come and talk to him"?"

Robert frowned. "Now you mention it …"

"Just tell them that you decided to repaper the closet – tell them that Katie was scared of the wallpaper or something." Jess suggested, taking another look at the wallpaper. "Those patterns could look like faces in the dark; it's plausible. You asked your wife to tear down the paper, and she found the door and called you. You came home on your lunch break, pried the door open, and voila."

"So now we've found him, will his ghost leave?" Robert asked.

"Should do." Jess confirmed. "Unless he decides to stick around to get revenge on his killers. Best thing to do is wait for the police to finish with the body, and then claim it. Something tells me if this guy had anyone looking for him, they'd have found him by now. He lived here, it would have been the first place they looked. So claim it, and make sure it gets cremated. That should get rid of him, even if he decides to stick around."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Call me." Jess said. "My boyfriend will know what to do. I'm guessing you'll want to postpone the rest of our meeting until after this blows over?"

Robert shook his head. "Yes. And I want whatever's making you so calm about all of this."

Jess took a moment to consider everything that had happened in the last four months. "Trust me. No you don't."

* * *

It took about four days for Robert to smooth everything out, but Jess finally got everything sorted. She made the decision to leave most of her inheritance where it was, so she could dip into it if she desperately needed the money, but wasn't tempted to spend it all at once.

While they were hunting, they only really needed money for food, gas and motel rooms, and as long as they had other funds, they were fine.

This way, at least, the money was gaining more interest, and was there if she (they) wanted to take a step out of the life.

The thing that was worrying her now was the lack of contact with Sam and Dean. Surely she should have heard something by now. She finished packing her bag, and turned on the television in the small motel room, tapping her foot impatiently.

Maybe she should drive to St Louis and find them.

_"In other news, the man accused of the attempted murder of a woman in St Louis, Missouri, was found dead this evening. Police believe that Dean Winchester is also responsible for the deaths of …"_

Jess felt her heart stop, the reporter's voice drowned out by the fuzzy noise that filled her ears as the screen showed several police officers removing a body from a house. She dived for her phone, dialling Sam's number, but no one answered.

Her vision was beginning to blur, tears beginning to spill down her cheeks as she sank onto the bed, her entire body shaking.

Living on the road meant that you developed quite an attachment with the people travelling with you. Obviously she knew Sam better, and was closer to him, but she had grown to care about Dean over the last four months, and the idea of him being dead was heart-breaking.

Not least because of what it would do to Sam.

Her heart seemed to kick back in, a thousand times faster than it should be. She knew she should run to the car, drive to St Louis, search everywhere until she found Sam, probably having a breakdown in the back of the Impala.

Right now, however, driving was _not_ a good idea. She doubted she could even get out of the motel room right now.

After several tries, she managed to send Sam a text begging him to call her, before the device fell from her hands and she buried her face in the questionably musty pillow, letting it soak up her tears.

Had Dean been killed by whatever had framed Zach for murder?

Had he been killed by police trying to kill whatever had framed Zach for murder?

She was certain that the murders the police were blaming him for hadn't been committed by him – that, or they weren't human.

That much, she was sure of.

Minutes dragged into hours, and still she didn't sleep.

The tears had dried up, leaving her dry-eyed and empty, as she sat on her bed, hugging a pillow to her chest, rocking back and forth comfortingly.

Every so often, she picked up her phone and checked the messages, but it remained stubbornly silent and empty.

As dawn approached, she heard the achingly familiar roar of the Impala outside, and flung the pillow to one side, just as her phone lit up with a message.

_Sorry, Jessie. Phone died. What room?_

Jess frowned slightly at the message. It was very casual for a man who had just lost his brother, but she sent back the room number, adding that the door was unlocked.

Running a hand through her hair, she stepped into the bathroom to wash the dried tear-streaks from her face.

She heard the door open and close, and pasted a sympathetic smile. "Hey, are you …?"

Her question broke off with a strangled gasp that would have been a scream had she not caught it in time.

"Jess?" Sam asked, his brow creasing in concern. "Are you alright?"

Jess didn't answer, but made her way unsteadily across the room, reaching out to poke the shoulder of the man standing beside Sam, unsure whether she was seeing things.

"Jess?" Dean questioned. "You hit your head or something."

Jess shook her head, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his shoulder. After a second's hesitation, she felt him embrace her in return and felt the tears threaten to return.

"Jess?" Sam asked, his hand touching her back gently. "Are you alright?"

Jess took a few deep breaths, and pulled away, stepping out of Dean's arms and looking him in the eye. "So. Not dead then."

Dean looked between her and the small television, realisation dawning on his face. "It was on the news?"

"Well, that's what happens when you kill two people, attempt to kill another and then get _killed _yourself." Jess hissed. "What the _hell _happened out there?!"

"It was a shifter." Sam answered, putting an arm around her. "As in shape-shifter. It took Zach's form to kill his girlfriend, then someone else, then pretended to be Dean and nearly killed Becky."

"Then pretended to be Becky to kill Sam." Dean added. "But I found Becky and we got back in time to kill him."

"So you shot a shape-shifter who looked like you, and he just … stayed looking like you?" Jess summarised. "So … what, legally, you're dead now? Doesn't that weird you out a bit?"

Dean shrugged. "It's been a long time since I used my real name for anything. People'll forget about me soon enough."

Jess relaxed slightly. "Well … as long as you're okay, I guess. You had me really worried." She smacked Sam's arm lightly. "Next time, answer the phone! Or at least send me a text to tell me it died."

"I didn't notice until we got here." Sam said sheepishly.

"Then keep me updated." Jess amended, rolling her eyes. "There's been no word for four days. At least send me the occasional text to let me know you're okay."

Sam pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. We got a bit caught up in the case."

"I know." Jess turned back to Dean. "Have you always had two EMF meters or is that a new development?"

"Fairly new." Dean answered, looking at her curiously. "Why?"

Jess shrugged. "No reason. Thanks for the bag of tricks though; came in handy. Mom's attorney had a ghost problem." She felt Sam tense behind her and tilted her head back to see his face. "Problem, darling?"

"You hunted by yourself?" Sam asked.

Jess rolled her eyes. "I'm a big girl, Sam. I went and took a look, and if I'd needed help, I'd have called you. It was just this guy who wanted his body found and laid to rest. The police took care of everything else – found the guys that did it, and everything. They were stupid enough to leave fingerprints all over the room he was in. And Mr Carter claimed the body when no one else did and was good enough to have him cremated."

"Not bad, Jess." Dean said with a smile. "We'll have you shooting things in no time."

"Can't wait." Jess muttered, but couldn't help smiling back.

"Speaking of time," Sam put in, "we should hit the road."

"Sammy, relax." Dean said lazily. "We're in another _state_, and they're not going to be looking for me – I'm _dead_, remember? We can afford to grab a couple hours sleep."

Sam sighed. "Alright. But you're on the floor."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Any and all dialogue you recognise in this chapter was either taken from 1x07 Hookman or 1x08 Bugs. Thanks to Nadia for beta-ing.**

_Jess felt a chill run down her spine. "Lori, don't say that …"_

_But it was too late. The candles flickering on the altar at the front of the church all extinguished as one, and Sam jumped to his feet._

_"Come on. We gotta go." He and Jess each grabbed one of Lori's hands, pulling her towards the basement door, but suddenly, the Hookman was there, his hook breaking through one of the panels._

_"Go!" Sam shouted, pushing Jess and Lori ahead of him, and the two women ran down the aisle into a back room._

_The spirit of Jacob Kearns followed, his hook swinging wildly as Sam stayed a few steps behind them, trying to draw the attention away from Lori, who had unintentionally signed her own death warrant._

_Glass smashed, Lori's terrified cries echoed from the walls, and Jess let out a scream as that damned hook finally made contact, tearing through Sam's shoulder._

Jess jolted awake with a gasp, the remnants of a scream on her lips. She blinked a couple of times, bringing the dark interior of the Impala into sharp relief, only to jump violently when the car door opened.

"Dammit Sam!" She breathed, massaging her chest. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry." Sam said with a sheepish smile. "I thought you woke up."

"I did- just." Jess responded weakly. "But I hadn't quite left the nightmare behind." She undid her seatbelt and slid out of the car, stretching and melting into his arms in the same movement.

"Sorry." Sam repeated, brushing a kiss against her hairline. "Hookman again?"

Jess nodded into his shoulder, pressing a kiss against his shirt, against the same place the hook had penetrated, reassuring herself that no real damage had been done. "Where are we now?"

"Oklahoma still." Sam answered, gently untangling her hair with his fingers. "Dean's inside," he nodded at the bar they were parked outside, "and I'm searching for a job."

"Find anything?" Jess asked, but Dean emerged from the bar before Sam could answer, looking triumphant and waving a wad of cash in the air.

Sam rolled his eyes. "You know, we could get day jobs once in a while."

"Hunting's our day job," Dean said dismissively. "And the pay is crap."

"Yeah, but hustling pool?" Sam asked. "Credit card scams? It's not the most honest thing in the world, Dean."

Dean sighed. "Well, let's see. Honest or fun and easy?" He weighed it up for a few seconds before shrugging. "It's no contest. Besides, we're good at it. It's what we were raised to do."

"Yeah, well, how we were raised was jack." Sam muttered.

Jess bit her lip, inwardly agreeing with Sam, but didn't comment. How could she, when she'd never even met their father? "You know, Mom left …"

"We know, Jess." Dean interrupted. "But we can manage."

Jess nodded. Once the shock of the shifter debacle had passed, she had told the boys about her mother's legacy, and her plans to leave it gathering interest until she absolutely had to use it; they had agreed with her.

Hustling pool wasn't toobad (as far as she was concerned, if people were stupid enough to play for money with a stranger, that was their look-out, not hers), and while she wasn't crazy about the credit card scams, they only occurred when Dean hadn't had a chance to raise some money in a while.

Using the money outright would leave the account empty eventually, probably just before she really needed it.

"We got a new gig?" Dean asked.

"Maybe." Sam answered. "Oasis Plains, Oklahoma – not far from here. Gas company employee, Dustin Burwash, supposedly died from Creutzfeldt-Jakob."

"Human mad cow disease?" Jess asked.

"Mad cow." Dean repeated. "Wasn't that on Oprah?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You watch Oprah?"

"So this guy eats a bad burger." Dean said, after a beat of embarrassed silence. "Why is it our kind of thing?"

"Mad cow disease causes massive brain degeneration." Sam explained. "It takes months, even years, to appear. But this guy, Dustin? Sounds like his brain disintegrated in about an hour. Maybe less."

"Okay, that's weird." Dean conceded.

"Could still be a disease." Jess said, taking the paper from Sam to read the report herself. "Or something nastier."

Dean tucked the money inside his jacket. "Alright, Oasis Plains it is."

* * *

"So you found some beetles in a hole in the ground." Dean snorted. "That's shocking, Sam."

They had left the scene of Dustin's death- once Sam had been lowered into the hole he had been trapped in- with Sam in the back of the Impala, so he and Jess could both examine one of the dead beetles he had found.

"There were no tunnels, no tracks." Sam said. "No evidence of any other kind of creature down there."

"You know, some beetles do eat meat." Jess said thoughtfully. "Normally dead meat, but … How many did you find down there?"

"About ten." Sam answered.

Dean glanced at them in the rear-view mirror. "It'd take a whole lot more than that to eat out some dude's brain."

"Well, maybe there were more." Sam said.

"I don't know." Dean said sceptically. "Sounds like a stretch to me."

"We need more information on the area, the neighbourhood." Sam said. "Whether something like this has ever happened before."

Dean made a non-committal noise, slowing the car.

"What?" Sam asked.

"I know a good place to start." Dean said, pointing at a sign reading Models open. New buyers' BBQ today!. "I'm kinda hungry for a little barbeque, how about you?"

Sam and Jess looked at each other, then both gave him a knowing look.

"What?" He protested. "We can't talk to the locals?"

"And the free food's got nothing to do with it?" Sam asked.

"Of course not." Dean scoffed. "I'm a professional."

"Of course you are." Sam muttered, as Dean pulled over.

"Growing up in a place like this would freak me out." Dean commented, as they walked back towards the open house.

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Well, manicured lawns, "How was your day, honey?"" Dean shuddered. "I'd blow my brains out."

"I grew up in a place like this." Jess said flatly.

"There's nothing wrong with normal." Sam said defensively.

Dean shook his head. "I'd take our family over normal any day."

His gaze slid over them both as he spoke, and Jess smiled, warmed in a way the weather was lacking.

"Hang on." She said. "You go ahead; I'm gonna run back to the car and get a jacket; I'm freezing."

Dean tossed her the keys, and she caught them deftly, darting back towards the Impala.

Sam and Dean continued on to the open house and knocked on the door. An older man answered it, a friendly, probably fake, smile plastered on his face. "Welcome."

"This the barbeque?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, not the best weather, but …" The man shrugged, holding out a hand. "I'm Larry Pike, the developer here. And you are?"

"Dean." He said, shaking Larry's hand. "This is Sam."

Larry shook Sam's hand as well. "Sam, Dean, good to meet you. So you two are interested in Oasis Plains?"

"Yes sir." Sam lied.

Larry nodded. "Let me just say, we accept homeowners of any race, religion, colour or … sexual orientation."

The boys paused, a little puzzled, when Jess appeared between them. "They're brothers." She said with a smile, taking Sam's hand and offering her other hand to Larry. "I'm Jessica. Sam and I are looking for our first house together."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Larry began, shaking her hand.

Jess laughed. "Don't be. Gives me something to rib them about."

Larry led them through the house into the back yard, where he introduced them to his wife, Joannie, who swiftly engaged Jess in conversation, and a very energetic woman named Lynda, their head of sales.

"I take it you two are interested in becoming homeowners!" Lynda said cheerfully.

"Well …" Sam began, catching Jess's eye.

"Well, let me just say," Lynda continued, "We accept homeowners of any race, religion, colour or … sexual orientation."

Dean chuckled, as Jess excused herself to join them. "Well, I'm gonna go and talk to Larry. Okay, honey?" He swatted Sam's ass as he walked away and Jess smacked him over the head as he passed.

"Next time, we leave your brother at home." She said in mock-irritation, hiding a smile.

Sam shook his head, looking tired. "Sorry about him." He said to Lynda, who looked thoroughly confused. "This is Jessica; we're the ones looking for a house."

"Don't worry." Jess said hastily, before Lynda could apologise. "It's a common mistake."

* * *

"Squatting." Jess murmured, peering out through the bedroom curtains.

"At least we get some privacy for once." Sam pointed out, pushing the door closed. "Dean's practically unconscious."

Jess snorted. "I'm not surprised. He never sleeps properly in motels. It's like he's always on red alert."

"He's always been like that." Sam said. "Dad always taught us that an attack could come from anywhere at any time. At least in a house like this, we have some time to prepare ourselves while they get up the stairs."

Jess nodded silently.

"You agree with me, right?" Sam asked quietly, drawing closer to her.

"I think …" Jess said slowly. "I think that parts of your childhood were not what they should be. I think that your father should have put you and Dean before revenge, but I also know how difficult that must be. He clearly loved your mother very much, and no one would listen to him, thought it was an accident …"

"They thought it was an accident?" Sam interrupted, brow creasing in confusion.

"Her name came up while I was searching for Bloody Mary." Jess told him, finally turning away from the window. "Initially a suspicious fire, closed as accidental, caused by faulty wiring in the ceiling."

Sam breathed out a humourless chuckle. "Faulty wiring … right."

Jess smiled weakly. "I think your father probably did the best he could, Sam, and was trying to protect you, but that doesn't make any of it okay. And it's okay to be upset about it."

Sam nodded jerkily, his jaw clenched. "Are you okay with all of this?"

Jess frowned a little. "What do you mean?"

"This." Sam repeated, waving his hand around the room. "Hunting. Squatting. Living out of the back of the Impala. Risking our lives and breaking the law practically every week."

"Sam …" Jess reached out to him, laying a hand on his arm, feeling how tense he was. "Where's all this coming from?" "

Back there … you were in your element." Sam said softly. "That's your life, Jess."

"No." Jess said quietly. "This is."

"But if hunting wasn't an issue …" Sam began.

"Then maybe that would be my life." Jess finished, stepping closer to him. "Let me rephrase that. This is my life. My life has always been my family, and you – and Dean – are all I have left. So if you're hunting, I'm hunting, and if you're not, I'm not. And – y'know – it's not that bad …"

"Name one good thing about it." Sam challenged, not looking convinced.

"Tommy Collins." Jess said promptly. "While we're at it, Haley Collins, Ben Collins, Lucas Barr, Andrea Barr, Amanda Walker … Hell,everyone on that freakin' flight. They're all alive because of you – because of us."

Sam sighed, a small smile quirking on his lips, and settled down on the bed. "Are you sure you're happy? Because …"

Jess chuckled. "Honestly? I was talking out of my ass earlier. Those people might say they're open to all homeowners, but let's face it, did you see an inch of diversity out there? I was what they wanted me to be, and it was as boring as hell."

"Really?" Sam asked.

"You kidding?" Jess shook her head. "How can you stretch a discussion about how to get mayonnaise out of blouses into a twenty minute discussion?!"

Sam gaped at her. "Twenty minutes? About laundry?"

Jess nodded, looking tired. "And then an hour-long discussion planning our wedding."

Sam gave her a look rather like a rabbit trapped in the headlights. "Er, Jess …"

"I know." Jess assured him. "But you try telling them that. They're like vultures. They either have no daughters, or their daughters aren't old enough, or their daughters are, but were smart enough to let their mothers nowhere near their wedding."

Sam relaxed slightly. "At least they were interested."

Jess shook her head, moving to sit beside him, nestling against his side. "I swear, if we hadn't needed information …"

Sam chuckled, pressing a kiss to her head. They sat in silence for a few seconds, before a yawn crept over Jess, escaping her before she could bite it back.

Sam stretched, yawning in turn. "Thanks for that. We should get some sleep."

Jess nodded into his shoulder, not really moving as he rearranged them both so they were lying down. The house, although empty, was probably a show house, because it was fully furnished, although the beds weren't made.

Jess wasn't too bothered. The house was warm, and she hardly needed a blanket wrapped in Sam's arms. "You're not going to be too comfortable tomorrow." She warned sleepily. "Maybe we should make a pillow out of something."

"I'll be fine." Sam assured her. "I'll wake you up at two, and we'll swap places."

Jess smirked. "You can try."

She felt Sam shrug. "You don't have to wake up. I'm sure you make just as good a pillow as I do."

"We'll have to compare notes." Jess murmured, tilting her face up to kiss him.

Sam hummed in agreement against her lips. It had been a long time since they had any real privacy, and they easily fell into the relaxed banter they had toned down for Dean's sake. "Next time," he murmured, "we are booking a separate motel room."

* * *

As a rule, Jess wasn't scared of bugs. She tended to ignore spiders, unless they were particularly large or crawling on her feet (at which point it was the shock that got to her, rather than the actual presence of the spider), and beetles tended to fascinate rather than frighten.

The vision of a veritable cloud of bugs swarming towards the house, however, was enough to scare anyone.

"Oh my God …" Larry whispered, his hand clutching his son's shoulder.

"We'll never make it." Sam said grimly.

One of Matt Pike's hands made its way into Jess's and she squeezed it gently. She was the one who had coaxed the boy into showing them the Native American burial site he had found the day before, which had led them to uncover the curse on the land. With Lynda also dead and found covered in dead spiders, they had tried to evacuate the Pikes as quickly as possible, but Larry had refused to listen to his son.

"Everybody in the house." Dean said sharply. "Inside, go!"

They hurried inside, and Larry slammed the door shut, locking it.

"Okay, is there anyone else in the neighbourhood?" Sam asked.

"No, it's just us." Larry answered shakily, as his wife entered the room.

"Honey, what's happening?" She asked. "What's that noise?"

The sound of the swarm was getting louder, almost shaking the house.

"Call 911." Larry told her, but she didn't move. "Joanie!"

Looking frightened, she reached for the phone, but the hunters weren't taking any chances.

"We need towels." Dean said.

"In the closet." Larry said, looking confused.

Sam clapped Matt on the shoulder. "We need to lock this place up – windows, doors, fireplaces, everything."

Matt nodded seriously. "Got it."

"Phones are dead." Joanie informed them.

"They must have chewed through the phone lines." Jess murmured, taking some towels from Dean and padding out the front door. "And the power lines." She added, as the lights flickered and died.

"No signal." Larry added, checking his cell phone.

"You won't get one." Dean said grimly, peering out the window. "They're blanketing the house."

"What do we do now?" Larry asked.

"Try to outlast them." Sam answered, coming downstairs with Matt. "Hopefully, the curse will end at sunrise."

"Hopefully?!" Larry repeated.

Dean emerged from the kitchen with a can in his hand.

"Bug spray?" Joanie asked incredulously.

Dean flashed her a ghost of his usual smile. "Trust me."

The fireplace began to creak ominously, and Matt swallowed hard. "What is that?"

"The flue." Sam muttered, glancing back at him.

"All right, I think everyone needs to get upstairs." Dean said hastily, just as the swarm burst free from the fireplace, buzzing angrily.

Under the screams of terror, Dean flicked open a lighter and aimed the bug spray at it, causing the flame to flare up, warding of the bugs for a few seconds. "Everybody upstairs!" He ordered. "Now! Go, go, go!"

They wound up in the attic, ducking under the beams and rafters to back themselves into a corner. The buzzing was growing ever louder, and sawdust began sprinkling down upon them like a snowfall as termites began to chew through the roof.

A second later, the swarm burst through and Dean pulled out the bug spray, while Sam and Jess frantically tried to patch up the hole in the roof.

It was to no avail, and as they resorted to simply swatting the bugs away, Jess began to consider the fact that this was how she was going to die.

Mentally crossing herself, she silently began to pray, as her mother had taught her. _Saint Michael the archangel, protect us in battle …_

Light suddenly streamed through the hole in the ceiling and for one crazy second, Jess almost thought there was a figure standing in the ray of light.

She blinked, and realised that the 'figure' was actually the bugs, shooting back out of the house in a kind of cyclone. Within seconds, the attic was empty, and she, Sam and Dean cautiously approached the hole to peer out.

Dawn had come.

The curse was broken.

They were safe.


End file.
